FADE          :  •&  BY 


GEORGE  SAND. 


NEW  YORK  AND  BOSTON 
THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  AND 
COMPANY 


FADETTE 


BY 

GEORGE   SAND 


TRANSLATED    BY 
MRS.   JAMES   M.    LANCASTER 


NEW  YORK  :   46  EAST  14-™  STREET 

THOMAS   Y.  CROWELL   &  COMPANY 

BOSTON  :   100  PURCHASE  STREET 


THE 

UNIVEKSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


\ 

COPYRIGHT,  1896, 
Bv  T.  Y.  CROWELL  &  CO. 


Norfaooti 
J.  8.  Ciuhing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 


AFTER  the  terrible  days  of  June,  1848,  were  at  an 
end,  I  withdrew  from  the  world  —  agitated  to  the 
very  depths  of  my  soul  by  the  scenes  of  violence 
through  which  we  had  passed,  and  hoping  to  regain 
in  solitude,  at  least  my  faith,  if  not  my  peace  of  mind. 

If  I  claimed  to  be  a  philosopher,  I  might  believe  or 
pretend  to  believe,  that  faith  in  ideas  enables  the 
mind  to  maintain  its  serenity  in  the  midst  of  the 
deplorable  events  of  contemporaneous  history. 

But  I  make  no  such  pretensions.  I  humbly  ac- 
knowledge that  the  conviction  that  Providence  has 
a  future  in  store  for  us,  would  have  no  power  to 
sustain  the  soul  of  an  artist  through  the  trials  of  a 
present  fraught  with  gloom  and  convulsed  by  civil 
war.  Men  who  enter  the  fray  —  who  take  an  active 
part  in  politics  —  must,  whatever  may  be  the  circum- 
stances, be  a  prey  to  alternate  hope  and  despair,  rage 
and  exultation,  —  the  elation  of  triumph  or  the  exas- 
peration of  defeat. 

But  for  the  poor  poet  as  for  the  woman  who  sits, 
an  idle  spectator  of  events,  —  having  no  direct  or 
iii 


2039012 


iv  PREFACE 

personal  part  in  them,  —  there  is  —  whatever  may  be 
the  outcome  of  the  struggle  —  a  profound  abhorrence 
of  bloodshed  on  either  side,  grief  and  despair  at 
beholding  the  hatred,  the  insults,  the  threats,  the 
calumnies  which  ascend  to  heaven,  like  a  foul  holo- 
caust, in  the  train  of  social  upheavals. 

At  such  moments  as  these,  a  genius  like  Dante's, 
impetuous  and  indomitable,  writes  with  his  tears, 
his  nerves  at  their  utmost  tension,  dipping  his 
pen  in  gall  —  a  terrible  poem,  a  drama  filled  with 
groans  and  torture.  One's  soul  must,  like  his, 
have  been  tempered  by  fire  and  sword,  before  one's 
imagination  could  conceive  the  horrors  of  a  symbolic 
Inferno,  when  the  wretched  Purgatory  of  actual 
earthly  desolation  is  staring  him  in  the  face. 

The  artist  of  our  less  virile  and  more  sensitive  age 
—  who  is  the  reflection  and  echo  of  his  generation  — 
cannot  resist  the  impulse  to  avert  his  gaze  and  dis- 
tract his  imagination  by  turning  toward  an  ideal 
state  of  peace  and  calm  contemplation.  He  need 
not  blush  for  the  weakness  to  which  he  yields,  for  it 
is  also  his  duty.  At  a  time  when  such  evils  arise 
from  men's  hatred  of  each  other  and  lack  of  mutual 
understanding,  the  artist's  mission  is  to  extol  moder- 
ation, mutual  confidence,  and  friendship,  and  thereby 
to  remind  poor,  callous,  or  disheartened  humanity, 
that  purity  of  morals,  tender  sentiments,  and  prim- 
itive justice  still  exist  or  can  exist  in  this  world. 

Direct  allusions  to  present  ills,  appeals  to  excited 
passions  —  these  do  not  lead  to  salvation ;  a  sweet 


PREFACE  v 

song,  an  air  on  the  rustic  pipe,  a  tale  with  which  to 
lull  the  little  ones  to  sleep,  —  secure  and  free  from 
pain,  —  is  worth  far  more  than  the  portrayal  of  real 
evils,  whose  colors  are  deepened  and  intensified  by 
the  power  of  fiction. 

To  preach  peace  and  harmony  to  men  engaged  in 
cutting  each  other's  throats,  is  like  a  voice  crying  in 
the  wilderness.  There  are  times  when  men's  souls 
are  so  disturbed  that  they  are  deaf  to  any  direct 
appeal.  Since  those  June  days,  of  which  present 
events  are  the  inevitable  consequence,  the  author  of 
the  tale  which  you  are  about  to  read  has  assumed 
the  task  of  being  amiable,  even  if  he  should  die  of 
chagrin.  He  has  allowed  them  to  ridicule  his  pas- 
toral sketches,  just  as  they  have  ridiculed  everything 
else,  but  has  not  troubled  himself  as  to  the  decisions 
of  dogmatic  criticism.  He  knows  that  he  has  given 
pleasure  to  those  who  love  that  strain,  and  that  to 
give  pleasure  to  such  as  suffer  from  the  same  malady 
as  himself —  a  horror  of  hatred  and  the  vengeance 
which  follows  in  its  footsteps  —  is  to  do  them  all  the 
good  which  they  are  capable  of  accepting.  A  brief 
enjoyment,  it  is  true, — a  fleeting  consolation,  —  but 
more  genuine  than  the  tirades  of  passion  and  more 
impressive  than  a  classic  presentation  of  logical  facts. 

GEORGE  SAND. 
NOHANT,  December  21,  1851. 


FADETTE 


CHAPTER   I 

FATHER  BARBEAU  was  a  member  of  the  municipal 
council  of  his  commune,  so  you  may  take  it  for 
granted  that  he  was  a  man  in  pretty  comfortable 
circumstances.  He  had  two  fields  which  furnished 
a  support  for  his  family,  and  gave  him  a  profit  be- 
sides. His  meadows  yielded  an  abundant  crop  of 
hay,  and,  with  the  exception  of  that  growing  along 
the  brook,  —  which  was  of  rather  poorer  quality  on 
account  of  the  rushes,  —  it  was  considered  the  best 
forage  in  the  neighborhood.  Father  Barbeau's 
house  was  well  built,  roofed  with  tiles,  and  pleas- 
antly situated  on  a  hillside,  with  a  productive  garden 
and  a  vineyard  of  about  five  acres.  Then  he  had  a 
fine  orchard  behind  his  barn,  —  what  is  called  an 
ouche  in  our  part  of  the  country,  which  bore  plenty 
of  fruit,  —  plums,  cherries,  pears,  and  sorb  apples ; 
and  there  were  no  walnut  trees,  within  a  couple  of 
leagues,  so  large  and  old  as  those  which  bordered 
his  land.  Father  Barbeau  was  a  good,  cheerful, 
simple-hearted  man,  very  devoted  to  his  family, 

B  I 


2  FADETTE 

without  neglecting  the  interests  of  his  neighbors 
and  fellow-parishioners. 

He  was  already  the  father  of  three  children,  when 
Mother  Barbeau  —  being  no  doubt  of  the  opinion 
that  they  were  able  to  support  five,  and  that  she  had 
better  hurry  up  as  she  was  getting  on  in  years  —  saw 
fit  to  present  him  with  two  fine  boys  at  once.  As 
they  were  so  much  alike  that  it  was  difficult  to  tell 
them  apart,  it  was  at  once  evident  that  they  were 
bessons,  that  is  to  say,  twins  who  bear  a  remark- 
able resemblance  to  each  other.  Mother  Sagette, 
who  received  them  in  her  apron  as  soon  as  they  came 
into  the  world,  did  not  forget  to  make  a  little  cross 
with  her  needle  on  the  arm  of  the  first-born,  because, 
said  she,  "  there  might  be  some  mistake  about  a  bit 
of  ribbon  or  a  necklace,  and  so  the  child  might  forfeit 
his  birthright." 

"When  the  child  is  better  able  to  bear  it,"  said 
she,  "  we  must  make  a  mark  which  will  last,"  and 
this  was  accordingly  done.  The  elder  was  named 
Sylvain,  which  was  soon  changed  to  Sylvinet,  to  dis- 
tinguish him  from  his  elder  brother,  who  was  his 
godfather ;  the  younger  was  called  Landry,  and  kept 
the  name  as  he  had  received  it  at  baptism,  his  uncle, 
who  was  his  sponsor,  being  still  known  as  Landriche, 
—  the  name  he  had  borne  as  a  child. 

When  Father  Barbeau  returned  from  market,  he  was 
rather  surprised  to  see  two  little  heads  in  the  cradle. 

"Oh,  ho!"  said  he,  "that  cradle  is  too  small,  —  I 
must  make  it  larger  to-morrow."  He  was  something 


FADETTE  3 

of  a  carpenter,  though  he  had  never  learned  the 
trade,  and  had  made  half  his  furniture  himself.  He 
had  nothing  further  to  say  on  the  subject,  but  set 
about  caring  for  his  wife,  who  drank  a  large  glass  of 
warm  wine,  and  was  all  the  better  for  it. 

"  You  are  so  very  industrious,  wife,  that  I  ought  to 
feel  encouraged  to  do  my  part.  Here  are  two  more 
children  to  feed,  though  we  were  not  actually  in  need 
of  them ;  that  means  that  I  must  keep  on  cultivat- 
ing our  land  and  raising  our  cattle.  Don't  fret!  — 
I'll  work ;  but  see  that  you  don't  give  me  three  the 
next  time,  for  that  would  be  too  many." 

Mother  Barbeau  began  to  cry,  which  greatly  dis- 
tressed Father  Barbeau.  "There,  there,  wife  !  "  said 
he,  "  you  must  not  worry.  I  did  not  say  that  to  dis- 
tress you,  but,  on  the  contrary,  by  way  of  thanks. 
These  children  are  handsome  and  well-formed  — 
they  haven't  a  blemish  about  them,  and  I  am  quite 
proud  of  them." 

"  Oh,  clear  me ! "  said  his  wife,  "  I  know  you  don't 
mean  to  blame  me,  master ;  but  I  can't  help  worrying, 
for  I  have  been  told  that  there  is  nothing  more  diffi- 
cult or  risky  than  bringing  up  twins.  They  are  a 
drawback  to  each  other,  and  it  generally  turns  out 
that  one  has  to  die  so  that  the  other  may  thrive." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  father,  "is  that  really  true? 
I  don't  remember  ever  to  have  seen  twins  before. 
They  don't  come  often.  But  here  is  Mother  Sagette, 
who  has  had  plenty  of  experience,  and  will  tell  us 
all  about  it." 


4  FADETTE 

So  when  they  appealed  to  Mother  Sagette,  she 
answered : 

"  Just  mark  my  words,  these  twins  will  live  and 
thrive,  and  will  have  just  as  good  health  as  other 
children.  I  have  been  a  nurse  this  fifty  years,  and 
have  seen  all  the  children  in  the  Canton,  born,  grow 
up,  or  die.  Twins  are  no  new  thing  to  me.  In 
the  first  place,  it  doesn't  matter  about  their  looking 
alike.  Sometimes  they  are  no  more  alike  than  you 
and  I,  and  yet  one  will  be  strong  and  the  other 
sickly ;  so  one  lives  and  the  other  dies.  But  just 
look  at  yours ;  each  one  of  them  is  as  handsome  and 
well-formed  as  if  he  were  an  only  son.  They  cer- 
tainly did  each  other  no  harm  before  they  came  into 
the  world,  and  they  were  born  without  causing  their 
mother  too  much  suffering,  and  seem  to  be  all  right 
themselves.  They  are  as  pretty  as  pictures,  and  ask 
nothing  better  than  to  be  allowed  to  live.  Come, 
cheer  up,  Mother  Barbeau!  You  will  take  great 
comfort  in  seeing  them  grow  up,  and  if  they  keep 
on  as  they  have  begun,  very  few  people,  excepting 
yourselves  and  those  who  see  them  every  day,  will 
be  able  to  know  them  apart,  for  I  never  saw  twins 
so  much  alike.  They  are  like  two  little  partridges 
out  of  the  same  egg.  They  are  so  pretty  and  so 
much  alike  that  only  the  mother  bird  can  know 
which  is  which." 

"All  right,"  said  Father  Barbeau,  scratching  his 
head ;  "  but  I  have  heard  say  that  twins  are  so  fond 
of  each  other  that  they  cannot  live  apart,  and  that  if 


FADETTE  5 

you  separate  them,  one  or  the  other  will  grieve  itself 
to  death." 

"That  is  perfectly  true,"  said  Mother  Sagette; 
"  but  now,  listen  to  the  advice  of  a  woman  who  has 
had  experience.  Do  not  forget  what  I  tell  you ;  for 
perhaps  by  the  time  your  children  are  old  enough  to 
leave  you,  I  may  no  longer  be  living.  Take  care  as 
soon  as  your  twins  are  old  enough  to  recognize  each 
other,  and  don't  let  them  be  always  together.  Take 
one  out  to  work  with  you,  while  the  other  stays  at 
home.  When  one  goes  fishing,  send  the  other  out 
hunting.  When  one  is  tending  the  sheep,  let  the 
other  go  and  see  to  the  cattle  in  the  pasture.  When 
you  give  one  a  glass  of  wine,  give  the  other  some 
water,  and  vice  versa.  Don't  scold  or  correct  them 
both  at  the  same  time  ;  don't  dress  them  alike  ;  when 
one  has  a  hat  let  the  other  have  a  cap,  and  above  all, 
don't  let  their  blouses  be  of  the  same  shade  of  blue. 
In  fact,  do  everything  you  can  to  prevent  their  being 
mistaken  for  each  other,  and  passing  themselves  off 
for  each  other.  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  what  I 
am  telling  you  will  go  in  one  ear  and  out  of  the  other, 
but  if  you  don't  follow  my  advice,  you  will  live  to 
regret  it." 

Mother  Sagette  spoke  sensibly,  and  they  believed 
her.  They  promised  her  to  do  as  she  said,  and  made 
her  a  handsome  present  before  she  left.  Then,  as 
she  had  expressly  recommended  that  the  twins 
should  not  be  brought  up  on  the  same  milk,  they 
at  once  set  about  finding  a  nurse.  But  there  was 


6  FADETTE 

none  to  be  found  in  the  place.  Mother  Barbeau, 
who  had  not  been  on  the  lookout  for  two  children, 
and  who  had  nursed  all  the  others  herself,  had  not 
made  any  arrangements  in  advance.  Father  Barbeau 
was  obliged  to  go  about  the  neighborhood  in  search 
of  a  nurse,  and  meanwhile,  as  the  mother  could  not 
see  her  little  ones  suffer,  she  suckled  them  herself. 

People  in  our  part  of  the  country  take  some  time 
making  up  their  minds,  and  even  if  they  are  very 
well-to-do,  must  always  try  to  bargain  a  little.  The 
Barbeaus  had  the  reputation  of  having  considerable 
property,  and  it  was  supposed  that  as  the  mother  was 
not  as  young  as  she  had  been,  she  would  not  be  able 
to  nurse  both  her  children.  So  all  the  nurses  Father 
Barbeau  could  find,  asked  him  eighteen  francs  a 
month,  —  just  the  same  as  they  would  charge  a 
bourgeois.  Father  Barbeau  had  not  expected  to 
give  more  than  twelve  or  fifteen  francs,  as  he  thought 
that  was  a  good  deal  for  a  peasant.  He  inquired 
everywhere,  and  talked  the  matter  over,  but  without 
coming  to  any  decision.  There  was  no  particular 
hurry ;  for  two  such  small  children  could  not  exhaust 
the  mother,  and  they  were  so  healthy,  so  quiet,  and 
cried  so  little,  that  they  made  scarcely  any  more 
trouble  in  the  house  than  one  baby. 

They  both  went  to  sleep  at  the  same  time.  The 
father  had  enlarged  the  cradle,  and  when  the  children 
both  cried  at  once,  the  same  rocking  soothed  them 
both. 

Finally  Father  Barbeau  engaged  a  nurse  at  fifteen 


FADETTE  7 

francs,  and  he  was  only  haggling  over  a  gratuity  of 
a  hundred  sous,  when  his  wife  said  to  him : 

"Pooh,  master,  I  don't  see  why  we  should  spend  a 
hundred  and  eighty  or  two  hundred  francs  a  year  as 
if  we  were  ladies  and  gentlemen,  or  as  if  I  were  too 
old  to  nurse  my  own  children.  I  have  more  than 
enough  milk  for  them  both.  Our  boys  are  nearly  a 
month  old,  and  just  see  how  healthy  they  are!  La 
Merlaude,  whom  you  are  thinking  of  engaging  as 
nurse  for  one  of  them,  is  not  so  strong  nor  so  healthy 
as  I  am ;  her  milk  is  already  eighteen  months  old, 
and  that  is  not  what  so  young  a  child  needs.  La 
Sagette  told  us  we  must  not  bring  up  our  children 
on  the  same  milk,  so  as  to  prevent  their  becoming 
too  fond  of  each  other.  But  didn't  she  say,  too,  that 
we  must  take  as  good  care  of  one  as  of  the  other? 
After  all,  twins  are  not  so  hardy  as  other  children. 
I  would  rather  that  our  boys  should  love  each  other 
too  dearly,  than  that  one  should  be  sacrificed  for  the 
other.  I  may  say  that  I  have  been  very  fond  of  all 
my  children,  but,  somehow  or  other,  these  seem  to 
me  the  prettiest  little  darlings  I  have  ever  held  in  my 
arms.  I  have  a  queer  feeling  about  them,  which 
makes  me  always  feel  afraid  that  I  may  lose  them. 
Give  up  thinking  of  engaging  a  nurse,  husband, — 
please  do!  in  every  other  respect  we  will  follow 
Mother  Sagette's  advice.  How  can  two  children 
still  at  the  breast  grow  too  fond  of  each  other,  I 
should  like  to  know,  when  they  will  hardly  be  able 
to  tell  their  hands  from  their  feet  when  they  are  old 
enough  to  be  weaned  ?  " 


8  FADETTE 

"What  you  say  is  very  true,  wife,"  answered 
Father  Barbeau,  looking  at  his  wife,  who  was  still 
fresher  and  stronger  than  most  women ;  "  but  what 
should  we  do  if  your  health  should  fail  as  the  chil- 
dren grow  bigger?  " 

"  Never  fear,1'  said  Mother  Barbeau ;  "  my  appetite 
is  as  good  as  when  I  was  fifteen,  and  besides,  if  I 
find  that  I  am  running  down,  I  promise  you  that  I 
will  let  you  know,  and  there  will  still  be  time  to  send 
one  of  these  poor  children  out  to  nurse." 

Father  Barbeau  agreed,  the  more  readily  as  he  was 
not  much  inclined  to  incur  any  unnecessary  expense. 
Mother  Barbeau  nursed  her  twins  uncomplainingly, 
and  was  none  the  worse  for  it,  and  she  had  such  a 
fine  constitution  that,  two  years  after  weaning  her 
little  ones,  she  gave  birth  to  a  pretty  little  girl 
named  Nanette,  which  she  also  nursed  herself.  But 
it  was  a  little  too  much  for  her,  and  she  could  hardly 
have  managed  it,  if  her  eldest  daughter,  who  had  just 
had  her  first  child,  had  not  come  to  her  assistance 
by  occasionally  nursing  her  little  sister.  And  so  the 
whole  family  grew  up  and  were  soon  swarming  about ' 
in  the  sunshine,  —  the  little  uncles  and  aunts  with  the 
little  nephews  and  nieces,  none  of  whom  could  lay 
claim  to  being  any  better  or  any  worse  than  the 
others. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  twins  grew  apace  and  were  not  ill  any  oftener 
than  other  children,  and  they  were  so  good-tempered 
and  amiable  that  it  really  seemed  as  if  they  did 
not  suffer  as  much  in  teething  and  growing  as  the 
rest  of  the  little  ones.  They  were  blond  and  con- 
tinued blond  all  their  lives.  They  were  very  good- 
looking,  with  large  blue  eyes,  fine  sloping  shoulders, 
straight,  well-formed  bodies,  —  larger  and  stronger 
than  other  children  of  their  age,  and  all  the  people 
from  the  neighborhood  who  passed  through  La  Cosse 
stopped  to  take  a  look  at  them  and  to  wonder  at 
their  resemblance  to  each  other,  and  everyb9dy  went 
off  saying,  "That  is  certainly  a  fine  pair  of  boys!" 
In  this  way  the  twins  became  early  accustomed  to 
being  inspected  and  questioned,  so  that  they  did  not 
grow  up  bashful  and  silly.  They  were  quite  at  their 
ease  with  everybody,  and  instead  of  hiding  behind 
the  bushes  as  country  children  do  whenever  they  see 
a  stranger,  they  spoke  to  everybody  who  came  along, 
but  always  very  politely  and  answered  any  questions 
without  hanging  their  heads  or  waiting  to  be  asked 
twice.  At  first  sight  there  seemed  to  be  no  differ- 
ence between  them,  and  they  were  thought  to  be  as 
9 


10  FADETTE 

much  alike  as  two  peas.  But  after  looking  at  them 
for  a  few  minutes,  you  could  see  that  Landry  was  a 
shade  taller  and  stronger,  that  his  hair  was  a  little 
thicker,  his  nose  more  prominent,  and  his  eyes 
brighter.  His  forehead  was  broader  too,  and  he 
looked  more  determined,  and  while  his  brother  had 
a  mark  on  his  left  cheek,  he  had  a  similar  one  on  his 
right  cheek,  only  much  more  distinct.  The  people 
of  the  district  could  distinguish  them  readily  enough, 
but  they  had  to  look  closely,  and  at  nightfall  or  at  a 
little  distance,  almost  everybody  confused  them,  par- 
ticularly as  their  voices  were  very  much  alike,  and 
as,  knowing  how  easy  it  was  to  mistake  one  for  the 
other,  they  answered  to  each  other's  names  without 
troubling  themselves  to  correct  the  error.  Even 
Father  Barbeau  was  sometimes  confused,  but,  as 
Sagette  had  prophesied,  their  mother  alone  never 
made  a  mistake,  whether  they  were  in  the  dark  or 
at  so  great  distance  off  that  she  could  just  see  them 
coming  or  hear  their  voices. 

In  fact,  there  was  nothing  to  choose  between  them, 
and  if  Landry  was  a  trifle  gayer  and  more  high- 
spirited  than  his  brother,  Sylvinet  was  so  affection- 
ate and  intelligent  that  he  was  quite  as  lovable  as 
his  younger  brother.  For  the  first  three  months 
their  parents  tried  to  prevent  their  growing  fond  of 
each  other.  Three  months  is  a  long  time  for  coun- 
try people  to  continue  doing  anything  to  which  they 
are  unaccustomed.  But,  on  the  one  hand,  they 
could  not  see  that  it  made  any  difference,  and  on 


FADETTE  11 

the  other,  M.  le  Curd  had  told  them  that  Mother 
Sagette  was  in  her  dotage,  and  that  what  the  dear 
Lord  had  ordained  by  natural  law,  could  not  be 
undone  by  man.  So  that  by  and  by  they  forgot 
what  they  had  promised  to  do.  The  first  time  the 
little  boys  left  off  their  frocks  to  go  to  mass  in 
trousers,  they  were  dressed  in  the  same  cloth,  for 
both  suits  were  made  out  of  a  petticoat  of  their 
mother's,  and  were  just  alike,  for  the  parish  tailor 
did  not  know  how  to  make  them  any  other  way. 
As  they  grew  older,  it  was  noticed  that  they  liked 
the  same  colors,  and  when  their  Aunt  Rosette  wished 
to  make  them  a  present  of  a  cravat  on  New  Year's 
Day,  they  both  chose  one  of  the  same  shade  of 
lilac,  out  of  the  pack  of  the  pedlar  who  carried  his 
merchandise  from  door  to  door  on  the  back  of  his 
Percheron  horse.  Their  aunt  asked  them  if  it  was 
because  they  wanted  to  be  dressed  alike,  but  the 
twins  did  not  think  that  far.  Sylvinet  answered  that 
the  pedlar  had  not  another  cravat  in  his  stock  so 
pretty  in  color  and  design,  and  Landry  at  once 
agreed  that  all  the  other  cravats  were  ugly. 

"And  how  do  you  like  the  color  of  my  horse  ?" 
asked  the  pedlar,  laughing. 

"  It  is  very  ugly,"  said  Landry.  "  It  looks  like  an 
old  magpie." 

"  Just  as  ugly  as  can  be,"  said  Sylvinet.  "  It  looks 
like  a  half-fledged  magpie." 

"  You  see,"  said  the  pedlar  to  their  aunt,  looking 
very  wise,  "  that  these  children  see  everything  the 


12  FADETTE 

same.  If  one  sees  yellow  where  he  ought  to  see  red, 
the  other  will  as  quickly  see  red  where  he  ought  to 
see  yellow,  and  it  is  of  no  use  arguing  the  matter  with 
them  ;  for  they  say  when  you  try  to  prevent  twins  from 
regarding  themselves  as  cast  in  the  same  die,  they 
become  idiots  and  can't  tell  what  they  are  talking 
about." 

The  pedlar  said  this  because  his  lilac  cravats  were 
not  fast  color,  and  he  was  anxious  to  find  a  customer 
who  would  take  two  of  them. 

As  time  went  on,  all  this  continued,  and  the  twins 
were  dressed  so  exactly  alike  that  people  confused 
them  still  more  frequently,  and  whether  from  a  spirit 
of  childish  mischief  or  in  accordance  with  that  natural 
law  which  the  curd  believed  it  impossible  to  set  aside, 
when  one  had  broken  the  toe  of  his  sabot,  the  other 
soon  chipped  a  piece  off  of  his,  for  the  corresponding 
foot.  When  one  tore  his  jacket  or  his  cap,  the  other 
never  rested  till  he  had  imitated  the  tear  so  perfectly 
that  it  was  impossible  to  tell  that  it  was  not  caused  by 
the  same  accident ;  and  then  the  twins  would  begin 
to  laugh,  and  put  on  an  air  of  lamblike  innocence 
when  they  were  questioned  about  it. 

For  weal  or  woe,  this  affection  increased  with  age, 
and  by  the  time  they  could  use  their  reason  a  little,  the 
children  made  up  their  minds  that  neither  of  them 
could  play  with  other  children  when  his  twin  brother 
was  absent.  Once  when  their  father  tried  keeping 
one  of  them  with  him  all  day,  while  the  other  stayed 
at  home  with  his  mother,  they  both  were  so  sad,  so 


FADETTE  13 

pale,  and  worked  with  so  little  spirit,  that  the  parents 
thought  they  must  be  ill.  And  then,  when  they  met 
again  in  the  evening,  they  wandered  off  together, 
hand  in  hand,  and  did  not  want  to  come  in,  because 
they  were  so  glad  to  see  each  other  again,  and  also 
because  they  were  a  little  put  out  with  their  parents 
for  making  them  so  uncomfortable.  This  experiment 
was  not  repeated ;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  father  and 
mother,  sisters  and  brothers,  uncles  and  aunts,  were 
so  fond  of  the  twins  that  they  were  inclined  to  spoil 
them.  They  took  great  pride  in  them  because  they 
received  so  many  compliments  and  also  because  they 
were  neither  ugly,  silly,  nor  naughty. 

Once  in  a  while  Father  Barbeau  would  worry  a  little 
as  to  what  was  to  be  the  result  of  this  habit  of  being 
always  together,  after  they  should  grow  to  be  men, 
and  recalling  La  Sagette's  words,  he  tried  to  make 
them  jealous  of  each  other  by  teasing  them.  For 
instance,  if  they  played  some  prank,  he  would  pull 
Sylvinet's  ears,  saying  to  Landry,  "  Fll  forgive  you 
this  time,  for  you  generally  behave  better  than  your 
brother."  But  Sylvinet  soon  forgot  his  tingling  ears, 
—  he  was  so  pleased  that  Landry  had  escaped  punish- 
ment. They  also  tried  giving  to  one  what  both 
wanted  :  but,  if  it  was  something  to  eat,  they  divided 
it  between  them,  or  if  it  happened  to  be  a  toy  or  a 
little  tool,  they  made  common  property  of  it,  or 
handed  it  back  and  forth  without  question  of  owner- 
ship. If  one  was  praised  for  his  good  conduct,  with 
apparent  injustice  to  the  other,  that  other  was  proud 


14  FADE7TE 

and  pleased  to  see  his  twin  petted  and  encouraged, 
and  began  to  flatter  him  too.  In  short,  it  was  useless 
attempting  to  separate  them  in  mind  or  body,  and  as 
we  none  of  us  like  to  vex  children  whom  we  love, 
even  when  it  is  for  their  good,  they  soon  let  things 
take  their  own  course,  or  rather  they  turned  their 
little  teasings  into  a  game  which  did  not  deceive  the 
children.  They  were  very  sharp-witted  and  they 
sometimes  pretended  to  quarrel  and  fight  so  that  they 
might  be  let  alone ;  but  they  were  only  in  fun,  and 
took  care  not  to  hurt  each  other  even  the  least  little 
bit  in  the  world,  as  they  rolled  over  and  over  on  the 
ground.  If  some  passer-by  was  astonished  to  see 
them  squabbling,  they  would  hide  themselves  and 
laugh  at  him,  and  before  long  you  would  hear  them 
chattering  and  twittering  away  like  two  blackbirds 
on  one  branch. 

In  spite  of  this  devoted  affection  and  this  close 
resemblance,  God,  who  has  made  no  two  things  pre- 
cisely alike  in  heaven  or  earth,  ordained  that  their 
fates  should  be  very  unlike,  and  so  it  became  evident 
that  He  intended  them  to  be  two  distinct  beings,  — 
quite  dissimilar  in  temperament. 

It  was  not  till  after  they  had  made  their  first 
communion  together,  that  something  occurred  which 
showed  this  to  be  the  case.  Father  Barbeau's  family 
was  on  the  increase,  thanks  to  his  two  elder  daugh- 
ters, who  had  given  birth  to  a  goodly  number  of 
handsome  children.  His  eldest  son,  Martin, — a  fine, 
handsome  fellow,  —  was  out  at  service ;  his  sons-in- 


FADETTE  15 

law  were  all  industrious  men,  but  work  was  often 
scarce.  We  have  had  a  succession  of  bad  years  in 
our  part  of  the  country  —  as  much  from  severe  storms 
as  from  business  troubles  —  which  have  robbed  the 
country  people's  pockets  of  more  crowns  than  they 
put  into  them.  So  Father  Barbeau  did  not  feel  able 
to  keep  his  whole  family  at  home,  and  he  began  to 
think  that  it  was  time  to  put  his  twins  out  at  work. 
Father  Caillaud  de  la  Priche  offered  to  take  one  of 
them  to  drive  his  oxen ;  for  he  had  a  large  farm  to 
cultivate,  and  all  his  own  boys  were  too  big  or  too 
little  for  that  work.  Mother  Barbeau  was  both 
alarmed  and  distressed  when  her  husband  first  spoke 
to  her  about  it.  She  had  worried  about  this  very 
thing  all  their  lives,  and  yet  she  felt  as  if  it  was  the 
first  time  the  subject  had  been  mentioned ;  but  as 
she  was  a  very  obedient  and  submissive  wife,  she 
had  nothing  to  say.  The  father  also  felt  anxious, 
and  had  made  all  his  arrangements  in  advance.  At 
first  the  twins  cried,  and  spent  three  days  wandering 
about  the  woods  and  meadows,  and  were  never  seen 
except  at  meal-times.  They  would  not  say  a  word 
to  their  parents,  and  when  they  were  asked  if  they 
had  made  up  their  minds  to  consent,  they  did  not 
answer,  but  talked  it  over  a  good  deal  when  they 
were  alone  together. 

The  first  day  they  could  do  nothing  but  grieve 
over  the  approaching  separation,  and  walked  about 
arm  in  arm  as  if  they  feared  that  their  parents  might 
resort  to  force.  Father  Barbeau,  however,  would 


16  FADETTB 

never  have  done  that.  He  had  all  a  peasant's  shrewd- 
ness, which  is  half  patience  and  half  trust  in  the  magical 
effect  of  time.  So  the  next  day  the  twins,  seeing 
that  nobody  was  going  to  scold  them,  and  that  their 
parents  relied  upon  their  good  sense  to  bring  them 
to  reason,  were  more  afraid  of  offending  their  father 
than  they  would  have  been  if  he  had  threatened  to 
punish  them. 

"  We1!!  have  to  make  up  our  minds  to  submit," 
said  Landry,  "  and  the  thing  is,  to  decide  which  of 
us  is  to  go ;  for  they  have  left  it  to  us,  and  Father 
Caillaud  says  that  he  cannot  take  us  both." 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  to  me  whether  I  go 
or  stay,"  said  Sylvinet,  "  when  you  are  going  to  leave 
us?  It  is  not  only  the  fact  of  going  to  live  some- 
where else  that  I  am  thinking  about,  —  if  you  were 
going  with  me  I  should  soon  feel  at  home  there." 

"  It  is  easy  enough  to  say  that,"  answered  Landry, 
"  and  still  the  one  who  stays  at  home  will  have  more 
to  comfort  him,  and  will  not  have  so  many  things  to 
worry  about  as  the  one  who  will  have  to  part  from 
his  twin  brother,  his  father,  his  mother,  his  garden, 
his  animals,  and  everything  which  gives  him  any 
pleasure." 

Landry  spoke  with  considerable  firmness,  but  Sylvi- 
net began  to  cry  again ;  for  he  was  not  so  plucky  as 
his  brother,  and  the  idea  of  giving  up  everything  at 
once  made  him  so  unhappy  that  he  could  no  longer 
restrain  his  tears. 

Landry  cried,  too,  but  not  so  much  and  not  in  the 


FADETTE  17 

same  way ;  fot  he  was  always  thinking  of  taking  the 
greater  share  of  the  trouble  on  his  own  shoulders, 
and  he  wanted  to  see  how  much  his  brother  could 
bear,  so  that  he  might  spare  him  the  rest.  He  knew 
that  Sylvinet  hated  more  than  he  to  live  in  a  strange 
place,  and  with  people  who  were  not  his  relatives. 

"  See  here,  brother,"  said  he,  "  if  we  can  make  up 
our  minds  to  live  apart,  I  would  better  be  the  one  to 
go.  I  am  a  little  stronger  than  you,  you  know,  and 
when  we  are  ill,  —  which  almost  always  happens  at 
the  same  time,  —  your  fever  is  always  higher  than 
mine.  They  say  that  perhaps  we'll  die  if  we  are 
separated ;  I  don't  believe  that  I  shall  die,  but  I 
cannot  answer  for  you,  and  that  is  why  I  should 
rather  leave  you  with  our  mother,  who  will  comfort 
you  and  take  care  of  you.  To  tell  the  truth,  if  there 
is  any  difference  made  between  us,  —  and  I  hardly 
think  there  is,  —  I  believe  you  are  the  favorite,  and 
I  know  you  are  the  most  winning  and  affectionate. 
So  you  must  stay  and  I  will  go.  We  shall  not  be 
far  away  from  each  other.  Father  Caillaud's  land  is 
next  to  ours,  and  we  shall  see  each  other  every  day. 
I  like  to  work  and  it  will  keep  me  from  thinking  too 
much  about  you,  and  as  I  am  a  faster  runner  than 
you,  it  will  not  take  me  so  long  to  come  over  and  see 
you  as  soon  as  my  day's  work  is  done.  You  will  not 
have  much  to  do,  and  can  walk  over  to  see  me  at 
work.  I  shall  be  much  easier  about  you  than  if  you 
were  away  and  I  at  home.  So  I  hope  you  will  stay." 
c 


CHAPTER   III 

BUT  Sylvinet  would  not  listen  to  that.  Though 
he  was  more  devoted  to  his  father  and  mother  and 
little  Nanette  than  Landry  was,  he  shrank  from  al- 
lowing his  beloved  twin  to  bear  the  whole  burden. 
After  talking  it  over,  they  drew  straws,  and  the  lot 
fell  on  Landry.  This  did  not  satisfy  Sylvinet,  and 
he  insisted  on  tossing  up  a  penny.  Three  times  it 
fell  face  up  for  him,  and  it  was  always  Landry's  lot 
to  go. 

"  You  see  it  is  my  fate,"  said  Landry,  "  and  it  is  of 
no  use  to  fight  against  it."  The  third  day  Sylvinet 
had  not  done  crying,  but  Landry  hardly  shed  a  tear. 
The  idea  of  going  away  had  perhaps,  at  first,  been 
more  distressing  to  him  than  to  his  brother,  because 
he  was  fully  aware  of  the  demands  it  would  make  on 
his  courage,  and  also  realized  how  impossible  it 
would  be  to  resist  his  parents'  wishes.  But  he  had 
grown  accustomed  to  his  trouble  by  thinking  it  over, 
and  had  reasoned  with  himself  a  good  deal,  whereas 
Sylvinet  had  given  way  to  his  feelings  to  such  an 
extent  that  he  was  no  longer  able  to  take  the  matter 
into  calm  consideration,  and  Landry  had  quite  de- 
cided to  go  before  Sylvinet  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  consent  to  his  going. 

18 


FADETTE  19 

Then  Landry  had  rather  more  self-esteem  than  his 
brother.  They  had  been  so  often  told  that  they 
would  never  be  more  than  half  men  if  they  did  not 
get  used  to  being  separated,  that  Landry,  who  began 
to  feel  the  pride  of  his  fourteen  years,  wanted  to 
show  them  that  he  was  no  longer  a  child.  He  had 
always  had  great  influence  over  his  brother,  from  the 
time  when  they  first  climbed  to  the  tops  of  the  trees 
after  bird's-nests,  down  to  the  present  day.  So  now, 
he  succeeded  in  pacifying  him,  and  that  evening, 
when  they  went  back  home,  he  told  his  father  that 
his  brother  and  he  were  ready  to  do  their  duty :  they 
had  drawn  lots,  and  he  was  the  one  to  drive  Father 
Caillaud's  big  oxen. 

Father  Barbeau  took  his  twins  on  his  knees,  —  tall 
and  heavy  as  they  were,  —  and  said  to  them  : 

"Children,  you  have  reached  years  of  discretion, — 
I  can  see  that,  by  your  yielding  to  my  wishes,  —  and 
I  am  glad  of  it.  Remember  that  when  children 
obey  their  parents,  they  are  obeying  their  Father 
in  heaven,  who  will  reward  them  for  it  some  day  or 
other.  I  do  not  care  to  know  which  one  of  you  gave 
in  first.  But  God  knows,  and  He  will  bless  him  who 
made  the  proposal,  as  well  as  him  who  agreed  to  it." 

So  he  led  his  twins  to  their  mother  to  receive  her 
approval,  but  Mother  Barbeau  had  so  much  difficulty 
in  restraining  her  tears  that  she  could  not  speak  to 
them,  and  only  kissed  them  in  silence. 

Father  Barbeau,  who  had  plenty  of  sense,  knew 
well  enough  which  one  of  them  was  the  most  coura- 


20  FADETTE 

geous  and  which  the  most  affectionate.  He  did  not 
want  to  give  Sylvinet  a  chance  to  change  his  mind ; 
for  he  saw  that  Landry  had  decided  for  himself,  and 
that  the  only  thing  which  could  make  him  waver  in 
his  determination  would  be  the  sight  of  his  brother's 
distress. 

So  he  woke  Landry  before  daybreak,  taking  care 
not  to  rouse  his  brother,  who  was  asleep  at  his  side. 

"Come,  little  one,"  said  he,  in  a  whisper;  "we 
must  start  off  for  La  Priche  before  your  mother  sees 
you ;  for  you  know  how  she  feels  about  your  going 
away,  and  we  must  spare  her  a  farewell.  I  am  going 
with  you  to  your  new  master's,  and  will  carry  your 
bundle." 

"Won't  you  let  me  say  good-bye  to  my  brother?  " 
asked  Landry.  "  He  will  be  angry  with  me  if  I  go 
away  without  letting  him  know." 

"  If  your  brother  should  wake  up  and  see  you  go, 
he  will  cry,  and  that  will  waken  your  mother,  and 
your  mother  will  feel  all  the  worse  at  the  sight  of 
your  grief.  Come,  Landry!  You  are  a  brave  boy!  — 
You  don't  want  to  make  your  mother  ill.  Do  your 
duty  like  a  man,  my  son  ;  go  off  without  making  any 
fuss.  I  will  bring  your  brother  to  see  you  this  even- 
ing, and,  as  to-morrow  will  be  Sunday,  you  may  come 
to  see  your  mother  as  early  as  you  please." 

Landry  obeyed  like  a  hero,  and  crossed  the  thresh- 
old without  once  looking  back.  Mother  Barbeau 
was  not  so  sound  asleep  that  she  had  not  heard  all 
that  her  husband  had  said  to  Landry.  The  poor 


FADETTE  21 

woman,  acknowledging  that  her  husband  was  right, 
did  not  stir,  and  only  drew  her  curtain  aside  a  little, 
so  that  she  might  see  Landry  go.  She  was  so  over- 
come with  grief  that  she  crawled  out  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  intending  to  go  and  kiss  him  good-bye,  but 
she  stopped  when  she  stood  beside  the  twins1  bed, 
where  Sylvinet  was  still  asleep.  The  poor  boy  had 
cried  so  much  for  three  days  and  almost  three 
nights,  that  he  was  quite  worn  out,  and  even  a 
little  feverish,  for  he  was  tossing  about  on  his  pil- 
low, —  sighing  heavily  and  groaning,  but  without 
waking  up. 

Then  Mother  Barbeau,  looking  at  the  remaining 
twin,  could  not  help  acknowledging  to  herself  that 
she  would  have  felt  worse  to  see  this  one  go.  It 
was  true  that  he  was  the  most  affectionate  of  the 
two,  perhaps  because  he  was  not  quite  so  strong,  or 
because  God  has  established  a  natural  law  which 
decrees  that  when  two  persons  have  a  very  warm  at- 
tachment to  each  other  —  be  they  friends  or  lovers 
—  one  always  loves  r.iore  intensely  than  the  other. 
Father  Barbeau  had  a  slight  partiality  for  Landry, 
because,  in  his  eyes,  a  high  spirit  and  an  active  and 
industrious  disposition  were  of  more  value  than 
winning  manners  and  little  endearing  ways.  But 
the  mother  had  a  special  weakness  for  Sylvinet,  who 
was  more  lovable  and  attractive. 

So  there  she  stood,  looking  at  her  poor  boy,  who 
was  quite  pale  and  exhausted,  and  saying  to  herself 
that  it  would  have  been  a  great  pity  to  put  him  out 


22  FADETTE 

to  service  so  young ;  that  Landry  was  stronger  and 
better  able  to  work,  and,  in  addition  to  that,  his 
fondness  for  his  mother  and  his  twin  brother  was 
not  so  great  as  to  endanger  his  health. 

"He  is  a  child  who  has  a  great  notion  of  duty," 
thought  she ;  "  but,  all  the  same,  he  must  be  rather 
hard-hearted,  or  he  would  not  have  gone  off  like  that, 
without  a  word  of  protest ;  never  turning  his  head  to 
look  back,  or  shedding  a  tear.  He  would  not  have 
had  strength  to  go  two  steps  without  falling  on  his 
knees,  and  praying  Our  Dear  Lord  to  give  him 
courage,  and  he  would  have  come  up  to  my  bed, 
where  I  was  pretending  to  be  asleep,  if  only  to  take 
one  last  look  at  me,  and  kiss  the  hem  of  my  curtain. 
My  Landry  is  every  inch  a  boy!  He  cares  for  noth- 
ing but  life  and  activity,  and  wants  to  run  about  and 
work,  and  have  some  change.  But  this  one  has  the 
heart  of  a  girl.  He  is  so  gentle  and  affectionate 
that  one  cannot  help  loving  him  like  the  apple  of 
one's  eye." 

And  so  Mother  Barbeau  went  on  talking  to  herself, 
as  she  went  back  to  bed,  where  she  lay  awake  while 
Father  Barbeau  was  taking  Landry  over  fields  and 
pastures  towards  La  Priche.  When  they  reached  the 
brow  of  a  hill,  whence  they  could  get  a  last  view  of 
the  farm  buildings  of  La  Cosse,  Landry  stopped  and 
looked  back.  His  heart  swelled ;  he  seated  himself 
on  the  fern  and  could  not  go  a  step  farther.  His 
father  pretended  not  to  notice  him,  and  walked  on. 
In  a  moment  or  two,  he  called  to  him  in  a  low  voice : 


FADETTE  23 

"See,  Landry;  it  is  daylight!  We  must  hurry  if 
we  mean  to  get  there  before  sunrise." 

Landry  rose,  and,  as  if  he  had  determined  not  to 
let  his  father  see  him  cry,  kept  back  the  tears  —  as  big 
as  peas  —  which  came  into  his  eyes.  He  pretended 
that  he  was  looking  for  his  penknife,  and  reached  La 
Priche  without  giving  way  to  his  grief,  though  it  was 
hard  enough  to  bear. 


CHAPTER   IV 

FATHER  CAILLAUD,  seeing  that  they  had  brought 
him  the  strongest  and  most  industrious  of  the  twins, 
received  him  very  kindly.  He  knew  well  enough 
that  it  must  have  been  very  hard  to  decide  upon  this 
step,  and  as  he  was  a  good  man  and  a  kind  neighbor, 
and  also  a  great  friend  of  Father  Barbeau's,  he  did 
his  best  to  encourage  the  youngster  and  cheer  him 
up.  He  gave  orders  to  bring  him  some  soup  at 
once,  and  a  pitcher  of  wine  to  raise  his  spirits,  for 
it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  very  down-hearted. 
Then  he  took  him  out  to  yoke  up  the  oxen,  and 
showed  him  how  it  was  done.  Landry  was  not  alto- 
gether a  novice  at  this  kind  of  work ;  for  his  father 
had  a  fine  pair  of  oxen,  which  he  had  often  yoked 
up,  and  which  he  drove  remarkably  well.  As  soon 
as  the  boy  saw  Father  Caillaud's  big  oxen,  which 
were  the  best  cared  for,  the  best  fed,  and  the  strong- 
est breed  of  cattle  in  the  country,  he  felt  proud  to 
think  of  having  such  fine  beasts  at  the  end  of  his 
goad.  And  then,  too,  he  was  glad  of  an  opportunity 
to  prove  that  he  was  neither  timid  nor  awkward,  and 
that  his  duties  were  not  new  to  him. 

His  father  did  not  stint  his  praises,  and  when  the 
time  came  to  set  out  for  the  fields,  all  Father  Cail- 
24 


FADETTE  25 

laud's  children,  boys  and  girls,  little  and  big,  came 
and  kissed  the  twin,  and  the  youngest  girl  tied  a 
bunch  of  flowers  to  his  hat  with  a  ribbon,  because 
it  was  his  first  day  at  service  and  a  kind  of  holiday 
for  the  whole  family.  Before  leaving,  his  father  gave 
him  some  advice  in  his  new  master's  presence,  telling 
him  to  be  sure  and  try  to  please  him  in  everything, 
and  to  take  as  good  care  of  the  cattle  as  if  they 
belonged  to  him. 

And  so  Landry  went  to  work,  after  promising  to 
do  his  best,  and  he  kept  up  his  courage  and  did  good 
service  all  day,  coming  home  with  a  fine  appetite  ;  for 
it  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  worked  so  hard,  and 
there  is  no  better  remedy  for  grief  than  a  little  fatigue. 

But  time  did  not  pass  so  rapidly  at  the  Twinnery. 
As  soon  as  Sylvinet  woke,  and  saw  that  his  brother 
was  not  at  his  side,  he  suspected  what  had  happened, 
but  could  not  believe  that  Landry  would  go  off  like 
that,  without  even  saying  good-bye  to  him  ;  and  his 
anger  was  almost  equal  to  his  grief.  "What  have 
I  done  to  him,"  said  he  to  his  mother ;  "  and  how 
could  I  have  displeased  him?  I  have  always  done 
just  what  he  told  me  to  do,  and  when  he  urged  me 
not  to  cry  before  you,  darling  mother,  I  kept  back 
my  tears,  till  I  felt  as  if  my  head  would  burst.  He 
promised  me  that  he  would  not  go  away  till  he  had 
said  a  few  more  encouraging  words  to  me,  and  had 
taken  breakfast  with  me  at  the  other  end  of  the  hemp 
field, — the  place  where  we  always  used  to  go  to  play 
and  have  our  little  talks.  I  wanted  to  do  up  his  bun- 


26  FADETTE 

die  for  him,  and  to  give  him  my  knife,  which  is  better 
than  his.  You  did  up  his  bundle  yesterday  evening, 
without  saying  anything  about  it  to  me,  mother, — 
did  you  know  then  that  he  was  going  away  without 
saying  good-bye  to  me?" 

"  I  did  as  your  father  wished  me  to  do, "  answered 
his  mother. 

And  she  said  everything  she  could  think  of  to 
comfort  him.  He  would  listen  to  nothing,  and  it 
was  only  when  he  saw  that  she  was  crying  too, 
that  he  fell  to  kissing  her,  begged  her  pardon  for 
adding  to  her  troubles,  and  promised  to  stay  with 
her  to  make  amends.  But  as  soon  as  she  left  him, 
to  attend  to  the  poultry  yard  and  the  washing,  he 
ran  off  in  the  direction  of  La  Priche  without  even 
thinking  where  he  was  going,  but  obeying  an  in- 
stinct, just  as  a  pigeon  follows  its  mate,  never  heed- 
ing the  road. 

He  would  have  gone  all  the  way  to  La  Priche,  if  he 
had  not  met  his  father  coming  back,  who  took  him 
by  the  hand  to  lead  him  home,  saying  to  him : 

"We  will  go  over  this  evening,  but  we  must  not 
disturb  your  brother  at  his  work ;  his  master  would 
not  like  that,  and  beside  that,  your  mother  is  at 
home,  and  it  is  your  place  to  comfort  her." 


CHAPTER  V 

SYLVINET  went  back  home,  and  hung  on  his 
mother's  petticoats  as  he  had  done  when  he  was  a 
little  child,  and  never  left  her  all  day  long,  talking  to 
her  continually  about  Landry,  not  being  able  to  stop 
thinking  of  him,  and  going  into  every  nook  and 
corner  where  they  had  been  together.  That  even- 
ing he  went  over  to  La  Priche  with  his  father,  who 
wanted  to  accompany  him.  Sylvinet  was  wild  with 
impatience  to  embrace  his  brother,  and  he  was  so 
eager  to  get  off  that  he  could  not  eat  any  supper. 
He  expected  that  Landry  would  come  to  meet  him, 
and  imagined  every  moment  that  he  saw  him  run- 
ning toward  them.  But  Landry  never  stirred,  much 
as  he  longed  to  do  so.  He  was  afraid  that  the  young 
people  at  La  Priche  would  ridicule  the  affection  be- 
tween the  twins,  which  was  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of 
disease,  so  Sylvinet  found  him  at  the  supper-table, 
eating  and  drinking,  as  if  he  had  been  a  member  of 
the  Caillaud  family  all  his  life. 

But  Landry's  heart  leaped  for  joy  when  he  saw  him 

enter,  and  if  he  had  not  restrained  himself,  he  would 

have  upset  table  and  bench  in  his  eagerness  to  greet 

his  brother.     But  he  did  not  dare ;  for  his  master's 

27 


28  FADETTE 

family  were  watching  him  closely,  much  amused  with 
the  novelty  of  the  relation,  and  with  this  natural 
phenomenon,  as  their  schoolmaster  called  it.  So 
Sylvinet  rushed  up  to  him,  kissing  him  and  crying 
over  him,  and  cuddling  up  to  him,  as  a  bird  nestles 
against  its  mate,  to  keep  warm.  Landry  was  pro- 
voked to  have  the  others  see  him,  though,  as  far  as 
his  own  feelings  were  concerned,  he  could  not  help 
being  delighted.  He  wished  to  appear  more  sensi- 
ble than  his  brother,  and  kept  making  signs  to  him 
to  stop,  much  to  Sylvinet's  astonishment  and  dis- 
tress. So  the  twins  went  out  together  —  Father 
Barbeau  having  seated  himself  to  drink  a  couple  of 
glasses  of  wine,  and  have  a  little  chat  with  Father 
Caillaud.  Landry  was  longing  for  an  opportunity  to 
kiss  and  hug  his  brother  where  nobody  could  see 
them,  but  the  other  boys  were  watching  them  from 
a  distance,  and  even  little  Solange  —  Father  Cail- 
laud's  youngest  daughter,  who  was  as  mischievous 
and  inquisitive  as  a  linnet  —  trotted  after  them  to  the 
hazel  copse,  laughing  shyly  when  they  noticed  her, 
but  persisting,  under  the  impression  that  she  must  be 
going  to  see  something  very  extraordinary,  though, 
to  tell  the  truth,  it  did  not  seem  to  her  so  very  re- 
markable that  two  brothers  should  love  each  other. 

Sylvinet,  though  surprised  at  his  brother's  cool 
reception,  never  thought  of  reproaching  him,  so  glad 
was  he  to  be  with  him  again. 

Father  Caillaud  having  told  Landry  that  he  might 
have  a  holiday  the  next  day,  he  started  off  so  early 


FADETTE  29 

that  he  expected  to  surprise  his  brother  in  bed.  But 
though  Sylvinet  was  the  heavier  sleeper  of  the  two, 
he  waked  just  as  Landry  climbed  the  orchard  fence, 
and  ran  out,  barefooted,  as  if  something  had  warned 
him  that  his  twin  was  coming.  It  was  a  day  of  per- 
fect delight  to  Landry ;  he  was  so  glad  to  see  his 
family  and  his  home,  for  he  knew  that  he  could  not 
go  home  every  day,  but  must  look  upon  it  as  a  sort 
of  reward  of  merit.  The  first  half  of  the  day,  Syl- 
vinet forgot  all  his  sorrows.  At  breakfast  time  he 
looked  forward  to  dining  with  his  brother,  but  when 
dinner  was  over,  he  remembered  that  supper  would 
be  the  last  meal,  and  began  to  be  anxious  and  un- 
easy. He  petted  and  coddled  his  brother  to  his 
heart's  content,  giving  him  all  the  titbits,  —  the 
crusty  bit  of  bread  and  the  heart  of  the  lettuce; 
and  then  he  fell  to  worrying  over  Landry's  clothes 
and  shoes,  as  if  he  had  a  long  distance  to  go,  and 
was  greatly  to  be  pitied,  never  suspecting  that  he  was 
himself  more  an  object  of  compassion  than  Landry, 
because  he  felt  the  separation  most. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AND  so  the  week  passed  by,  Sylvinet  going  to 
see  Landry  every  day,  and  Landry  stopping  in  for 
a  moment  or  two  whenever  he  came  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Twinnery :  Landry  becoming  more 
and  more  reconciled  to  the  separation,  and  Sylvi- 
net, on  the  contrary,  counting  the  days,  the  hours, 
—  like  a  soul  in  torment.  Nobody  in  the  world 
but  Landry  could  make  his  brother  listen  to  reason. 
Even  his  mother  appealed  to  him  to  try  and  induce 
Sylvinet  to  be  more  reasonable,  for  the  poor  child's 
grief  increased  from  day  to  day.  He  would  not 
play,  he  never  worked  unless  told  to  do  so ;  he  still 
took  his  little  sister  out  walking,  but  never  spoke 
to  her,  and  never  did  anything  to  amuse  her,  only 
taking  care  that  she  did  not  fall  down  and  hurt 
herself.  The  moment  nobody  was  looking,  he  went 
off  alone,  and  hid  himself  so  cleverly  that  they  could 
not  find  him.  He  scrambled  into  ditches,  hedges, 
and  ravines,  where  he  and  Landry  used  to  play  and 
chat ;  he  sat  on  the  stumps  where  they  had  sat  to- 
gether, and  stuck  his  feet  in  all  the  little  streams 
where  they  had  paddled  about  like  a  pair  of  little 
ducklings.  He  was  delighted  when  he  found  a  few 
30 


FADETTE  31 

little  bits  of  wood  which  Landry  had  whittled  with 
his  garden  knife,  or  some  pebbles  which  he  had  used 
as  quoits  or  flints.  He  gathered  them  together  and 
hid  them  in  a  hollow  tree  or  under  a  brush  heap,  so 
that  he  might  come  and  take  them  out  every  now  and 
then,  as  if  they  were  great  treasures.  He  kept  rack- 
ing his  brain  to  recall  anything  which  might  serve  to 
remind  him  of  his  past  happiness.  Such  things 
would  have  meant  nothing  to  anybody  else,  but  to 
him  they  meant  everything.  He  gave  no  thought  to 
the  future,  not  daring  to  face  the  prospect  of  a  long 
succession  of  days  such  as  he  was  now  enduring. 
His  thoughts  were  all  in  the  past,  and  he  went  about 
like  one  in  a  perpetual  dream. 

Sometimes  he  would  fancy  that  he  saw  and  heard 
his  twin,  and  then  he  talked  to  himself  as  if  in  answer 
to  Landry.  Or  he  fell  asleep  wherever  he  might  hap- 
pen to  be,  dreaming  about  him  -  and  when  he  awoke, 
he  wept  to  find  himself  alone,  crying  with  all  his 
might,  in  hopes  that  fatigue  would  wear  him  out,  and 
so  his  pain  would  be  eased. 

One  day  when  he  had  wandered  as  far  as  the 
woods  of  Champceaux,  he  found  on  the  edge  of  the 
brook  which  ran  through  the  wood  in  the  rainy  season 
and  which  was  now  almost  dried  up,  one  of  those 
little  mills  which  our  children  make  out  of  twigs,  and 
which  are  so  well  constructed  that  they  turn  as  the 
water  runs  over  them,  and  often  last  a  long  time,  till 
they  are  destroyed  by  other  children,  or  swept  away 
by  the  floods.  The  one  which  Sylvinet  found,  quite 


32  FADETTE 

safe  and  sound,  had  been  there  over  two  months, 
and  as  it  was  a  lonely  nook,  nobody  had  seen  or 
injured  it.  Sylvinet  recognized  it  at  once  as  his 
brother's  work,  and  remembered  that  when  they  had 
made  it  they  had  intended  to  come  again  and  see  it. 
But  they  had  forgotten  all  about  it,  and  since  then 
they  had  made  a  good  many  mills  in  other  places. 

So  Sylvinet  was  glad  to  find  it  again,  and  carried 
it  a  little  lower  down,  where  there  was  more  water,  to 
see  it  turn,  and  recall  the  pleasure  which  he  and 
Landry  had  taken  in  setting  it  going.  And  then  he 
had  left  it  there,  intending  to  come  back  with  Landry 
the  next  Sunday  to  show  him  how  long  their  mill  had 
lasted,  because  it  was  so  well  built.  But  he  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  to  come  there  alone  the 
next  day,  and  he  found  the  edge  of  the  brook  all 
muddy  and  trampled  by  the  hoofs  of  cattle,  which 
had  been  turned  out  into  the  woods  to  pasture  that 
morning  and  had  come  down  to  the  brook  to  drink. 
He  went  a  little  farther,  and  saw  that  the  cattle  had 
trodden  his  mill  under  foot,  and  crushed  it  into  such 
tiny  bits  that  he  could  find  only  a  few  of  them.  He 
felt  very  uneasy,  and  taking  it  into  his  head  that 
Landry  must  have  met  with  some  mishap  that  day, 
he  ran  over  to  La  Priche  to  convince  himself  that 
nothing  had  happened  to  him.  But,  having  noticed 
that  Landry  did  not  like  to  have  him  come  to  see  him 
in  the  daytime,  for  fear  that  his  master  might  think 
that  he  was  wasting  his  time,  and  be  displeased,  he 
watched  him  from  a  distance,  and  did  not  show  him- 


FADETTE  33 

self.  He  would  have  been  ashamed  to  confess  what 
brought  him  there,  and  so  went  home  without  saying 
a  word,  and  did  not  tell  anybody  till  long  afterward. 

As  he  grew  pale,  slept  badly,  and  ate  hardly  any- 
thing, his  mother  was  very  much  worried,  and  did 
not  know  how  to  comfort  him.  She  tried  taking 
him  to  market  with  her,  or  sending  him  to  the  cattle 
fairs  with  his  father  and  uncles,  but  nothing  amused 
or  interested  him,  and  Father  Barbeau,  without  say- 
ing anything  to  him  about  it,  tried  to  persuade 
Father  Caillaud  to  take  both  twins  into  his  service. 
But  Father  Caillaud's  reply  was  so  sensible  that  he 
could  not  help  agreeing  with  him. 

"  Just  suppose  that  I  should  take  them  both  for  a 
time ;  it  could  not  be  for  long,  because  while  we  need 
one  helper,  people  like  us  cannot  keep  two.  At  the 
end  of  the  year,  you  would  have  to  hire  one  of  them 
out  to  some  one  else.  And  don't  you  see  that  if 
your  Sylvinet  were  in  a  pla'"..  where  they  would 
make  him  work,  he  would  have  no  time  for  moping, 
and  would  do  as  his  brother  does,  who  behaves  him- 
self like  a  little  man?  It  must  come  to  that  sooner 
or  later.  Perhaps  you  may  not  be  able  to  hire  him 
out  just  where  you  would  like,  and  if  these  children 
are  to  be  further  off  from  each  other,  and  will  not 
meet  oftener  than  once  a  week  or  once  a  month,  you 
had  better  begin  at  once,  so  that  they  may  get  used 
to  not  living  in  each  other's  pockets.  Be  sensible, 
old  fellow,  and  don't  pay  so  much  attention  to  the 
whims  of  a  child  whom  your  wife  and  your  other 
D 


34  FADETTE 

children  have  fondled  and  petted  too  much.  The 
worst  is  over,  and  you  may  rest  assured  that  he  will 
soon  get  accustomed  to  the  rest,  if  you  do  not  yield." 

Father  Barbeau  gave  in,  and  acknowledged  that 
the  more  Sylvinet  saw  of  his  twin,  the  more  he 
would  want  to  see.  So  he  determined  that  on  next 
St.  John's  Day,  he  would  try  and  hire  him  out,  so 
that  by  seeing  less  and  less  of  Landry,  he  would 
finally  form  a  habit  of  living  like  other  people,  and 
not  allow  himself  to  be  governed  by  an  affection 
which  was  injuring  his  health. 

But  he  could  not  talk  about  it  yet  to  Mother  Bar- 
beau,  for,  at  the  first  word,  she  would  cry  her  eyes 
out.  She  said  that  it  would  be  the  death  of  Sylvinet, 
and  so  Father  Barbeau  was  in  a  great  quandary. 

Landry,  by  the  advice  of  his  father,  his  mother,  and 
also  his  master,  tried  to  reason  with  his  poor  twin. 
Sylvinet  had  nothing  to  say  for  himself;  he  promised 
to  do  just  what  they  wanted  him  to  do,  but  could  not 
control  his  feelings.  There  was  another  trouble  of 
which  he  said  nothing,  because  he  was  at  loss  how  to 
express  himself.  In  the  very  bottom  of  his  heart  he 
was  jealous  of  Landry.  Nothing  pleased  him  more 
than  to  see  that  everybody  liked  Landry,  and  that  his 
new  master  and  mistress  treated  him  as  kindly  as  if 
he  were  their  own  child.  But  if,  on  the  one  hand,  he 
was  delighted  at  this,  on  the  other,  it  annoyed  him 
when  Landry  seemed  too  fond  of  these  new  friends. 
He  could  not  bear  to  see  him  run  off  at  a  word  from 
Father  Caillaud,  no  matter  how  gentle  the  summons 


FADETTE  35 

or  how  much  against  his  will  it  might  be,  leaving 
his  father,  mother,  or  brother,  more  afraid  of  being 
delinquent  in  duty  than  in  affection,  and  more  prompt 
in  obedience  than  Sylvinet  could  conceive  of  being, 
when  it  was  a  question  of  remaining  a  few  moments 
longer  with  the  objects  of  such  devoted  love. 

Then  the  poor  child  was  seized  with  a  fear  that 
had  not  troubled  him  till  now.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  the  love  was  all  on  one  side.  That  it  was  ill- 
requited  ;  that  this  must  always  have  been  the  case, 
though  he  had  not  been  conscious  of  it,  or,  rather, 
that  for  some  time  back  his  brother's  love  for  him 
had  cooled,  because  he  had  met  people  who  were 
more  congenial  to  him,  and  whom  he  found  more 
agreeable. 


CHAPTER  VII 

LANDRY  did  not  suspect  that  his  brother  was  jealous, 
for  he  had  never  in  his  life  known  what  it  is  to  be 
jealous  of  anybody  or  anything.  When  Sylvinet 
came  to  see  him  at  La  Priche,  Landry  entertained  him 
by  taking  him  to  see  the  big  oxen,  the  fine  cows,  the 
large  flocks  of  sheep,  and  the  abundant  crops  of 
Father  Caillaud's  farm.  Landry  attached  great  value 
to  all  these  things,  not  that  he  was  envious,  but  be- 
cause he  had  a  real  taste  for  farming  and  cattle-raising, 
and  for  everything  which  is  attractive  in  country  life. 
He  liked  to  see  the  colt  which  he  led  to  pasture  look 
clean  and  fat  and  sleek,  and  he  could  not  bear  to  see 
the  smallest  piece  of  work  neglected,  nor  any  gift  of 
Our  Dear  Lord  disregarded  or  despised,  if  it  was  capa- 
ble of  living  and  flourishing.  Sylvinet  cared  nothing 
for  all  these  things,  and  could  not  understand  how 
they  could  have  any  interest  for  his  brother.  He 
took  offence  at  everything,  and  said  to  Landry : 

"  You  seem  to  be  very  much  taken  with  those  big 
oxen.  You  don't  care  any  more  for  our  little  bullocks 
who  are  so  high-spirited  and  yet  so  gentle  with  us 
two,  that  they  would  let  you  yoke  them  up  sooner 
than  they  would  our  father.  You  haven't  even  asked 
36 


FADETTE  37 

after  our  cow  which  gives  such  good  milk,  and  who 
looks  at  me  so  sadly,  poor  beast,  when  I  go  to  feed  her, 
as  if  she  understood  that  I  am  all  alone,  and  wanted 
to  ask  me  what  has  become  of  the  other  twin." 

"  She  is  a  good  cow,  that's  true,"  said  Landry,  "  but 
just  look  at  this  one!  You  shall  see  them  milk  her, 
and  you  never  in  your  life  saw  so  much  milk  at  once." 

"  That  may  be,"  answered  Sylvinet,  "  but  I  bet  it  is 
not  such  good  cream  and  milk  as  Brunette's,  for  the 
grazing  at  the  Twinnery  is  better  than  the  grazing 
about  here." 

"  The  deuce,  it  is !  "  said  Landry.  "  Don't  you 
suppose  that  my  father  would  be  glad  to  exchange, 
if  he  could  get  Father  Caillaud's  fine  hay  fields  in- 
stead of  his  rush  field  down  by  the  water?" 

"  Pooh !  "  retorted  Sylvinet,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"  There  are  finer  trees  in  the  rush  field  than  any  of 
yours,  and  as  for  the  hay,  if  there  isn't  much  of  it,  it 
is  fine,  and  when  it  is  harvested  it  leaves  a  perfume 
like  balm  all  along  the  road." 

And  so  they  disputed  about  nothing ;  for  Landry 
knew  well  enough  that  nobody's  property  is  so  fine 
as  one's  own,  and  Sylvinet,  in  depreciating  the  La 
Priche  land,  was  not  thinking  of  his  own  or  anybody 
else's.  But  under  all  these  idle  words,  there  was,  on 
the  one  hand,  the  boy  who  was  willing  to  work  and 
live  anywhere  or  anyhow,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
boy  who  could  not  understand  how  his  brother 
could  enjoy  a  moment's  ease  and  comfort  away  from 
him. 


38  FADETTE 

If  Landry  took  him  into  his  master's  garden, 
and  interrupted  their  conversation  to  cut  off  a 
dead  branch  from  a  grafted  tree,  or  to  pull  up  a 
weed  which  had  grown  up  among  the  vegetables, 
Sylvinet  got  angry  to  see  that  he  was  always  think- 
ing of  the  interests  of  others,  instead  of  being, 
like  himself,  at  his  brother's  beck  and  call.  He 
kept  this  to  himself  because  he  was  ashamed  of 
being  so  touchy,  but  when  he  left,  he  often  said 
to  Landry : 

"Well,  you've  had  enough  of  me  to-day,  —  perhaps 
too  much ;  maybe  it  bores  you  to  have  me  come 
here." 

Landry  did  not  understand  these  reproaches,  —  but 
they  hurt  his  feelings,  and  in  return  he  reproached 
his  brother,  who  either  could  not  or  would  not  explain 
himself.  If  the  poor  child  was  jealous  of  the  slight- 
est thing  which  interested  Landry,  he  was  still  more 
jealous  of  the  people  to  whom  Landry  seemed  to 
be  attached.  He  could  not  bear  to  see  Landry  on 
friendly  terms  with  the  other  boys  at  La  Priche,  and 
when  he  saw  him  taking  care  of  little  Solange, —  pet- 
ting or  playing  with  her,  —  he  accused  him  of  forget- 
ting his  little  sister  Nanette,  who  was,  in  his  opinion, 
a  hundred  times  prettier,  cleaner  and  sweeter  than 
that  ugly  little  girl. 

But  —  as  one  is  never  just  when  one  is  eaten  up 
by  jealousy  —  when  Landry  came  over  to  the  Twin- 
nery,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  took  too  much  notice 
of  his  little  sister.  Sylvinet  accused  him  of  devoting 


FADETTE  39 

himself  altogether  to  her,  and  of  manifesting  nothing 
but  indifference  toward  himself. 

In  fact,  his  affection  became  by  degrees  so  exact- 
ing, and  he  was  so  dull  and  melancholy,  that  Landry 
began  to  find  it  disagreeable  and  did  not  care  to  see 
too  much  of  him.  He  was  rather  tired  of  his  per- 
petual reproaches  for  having  accepted  his  lot  as  he 
had  done,  and  it  certainly  seemed  as  if  Sylvinet 
would  be  less  miserable  if  he  could  make  his  brother 
as  miserable  as  himself.  Landry  saw,  and  tried  to 
make  him  see,  that  excessive  affection  is  sometimes 
injurious.  Sylvinet  would  not  believe  it,  and  even 
thought  that  his  brother  was  very  cruel  to  speak  to 
him  so.  And  so  he  would  have  an  occasional  fit  of 
the  sulks,  and  sometimes  would  not  come  to  La  Priche 
for  weeks  at  a  time,  though  he  was  longing  to  go 
there,  and  was  acting  entirely  from  a  false  sense 
of  pride. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that,  one  word  leading  to 
another,  and  quarrel  begetting  quarrel,  Sylvinet  al- 
ways taking  in  bad  part  all  Landry's  kind  and  sen- 
sible efforts  to  bring  him  to  a  better  frame  of  mind, 
poor  Sylvinet  became  so  perverse  that  he  took  it 
into  his  head  to  hate  his  brother  whom  he  had  so 
dearly  loved,  and  one  Sunday  he  left  the  house,  so 
as  not  to  spend  the  day  with  Landry,  who  had  not 
once  missed  coming. 

This  piece  of  childish  naughtiness  was  very  dis- 
tressing to  Landry.  He  was  fond  of  gayety  and  he 
loved  fun  and  frolic,  for  he  grew  stronger  and  more 


40  FADETTE 

independent  day  by  day.  He  led  in  every  game,  for 
he  had  a  keener  eye  and  a  more  agile  body  than  his 
comrades.  So  it  was  something  of  a  sacrifice  which 
he  made  for  his  brother's  sake,  when  he  left  the 
merry  boys  at  La  Priche,  to  spend  every  Sunday  at 
the  Twinnery  with  Sylvinet,  who  would  not  hear  to 
going  out  to  play  on  the  public  square  of  La  Cosse,  or 
taking  a  walk  in  the  neighborhood.  Sylvinet,  who 
was  much  more  childish  in  mind  and  body  than  his 
brother,  and  whose  one  idea  was  to  love  and  be  loved 
in  return,  wanted  him  to  go  off  all  alone  to  what  he 
called  their  places,  the  nooks  and  corners  where 
they  used  to  play  at  those  games  which  were  no 
longer  suited  to  their  age ;  such  as  making  little 
wheelbarrows  of  osier,  or  little  mills,  or  snares  to 
catch  little  birds ;  or,  perhaps,  building  houses  out 
of  pebbles,  or  laying  out  fields  the  size  of  a  hand- 
kerchief, which  children  make  believe  to  cultivate 
in  all  sorts  of  ways,  imitating  on  a  small  scale  what 
they  see  done  by  the  ploughmen,  sowers,  harrowers, 
weeders,  and  reapers,  and  thus  teaching  each  other  in 
an  hour's  time  all  the  different  modes  of  cultivation, 
and  the  rotation  of  crops  which  the  earth  bears  in 
the  course  of  a  year. 

These  amusements  were  no  longer  to  Landry's 
taste,  now  that  he  practised  or  helped  to  practise 
them  on  a  large  scale,  and  he  liked  far  better  to 
drive  a  large  cart  with  six  oxen,  than  to  fasten  a 
little  wagon  made  of  twigs  to  his  dog's  tail.  He 
would  much  rather  have  gone  and  played  skittles 


FADETTE  41 

with  the  stout  boys  in  the  neighborhood,  now  that 
he  was  skilful  enough  to  lift  the  big  ball  and  make 
it  hit  the  goal  at  thirty  paces.  When  he  got  Sylvinet 
to  go  with  him,  he  sat  in  a  corner  and  would  neither 
play  nor  say  a  word,  ready  to  take  offence  and  sulk, 
if  it  seemed  to  him  that  Landry  showed  too  great 
pleasure  and  interest  in  the  game. 

Landry  had  also  learned  to  dance  at  La  Priche,  and 
although  he  had  never  cared  for  this  amusement  till 
now,  because  Sylvinet  did  not  like  it,  he  already 
danced  as  well  as  those  who  had  been  used  to  danc- 
ing ever  since  they  could  walk.  At  La  Priche  they 
considered  him  a  good  jig  or  bourre'e  dancer,  and 
though,  as  yet,  he  did  not  take  any  pleasure  in  kiss- 
ing the  girls,  as  was  customary  in  every  figure,  he 
was  quite  willing  to  do  it,  because  it  made  him 
appear  more  manly ;  and  he  even  wished  that  the 
girls  would  pretend  to  make  a  fuss  about  it  as  they 
did  with  the  men.  But  they  did  not  as  yet,  and 
some  of  the  biggest  ones  even  threw  their  arms 
about  his  neck  and  laughed,  much  to  his  annoy- 
ance. 

Sylvinet  had  once  seen  him  dance,  and  that  had 
been  the  cause  of  one  of  his  worst  fits  of  ill-humor. 
He  was  so  angry  when  he  saw  him  kiss  one  of  Father 
Caillaud's  daughters,  that  he  shed  tears  of  jealousy, 
and  thought  the  whole  proceeding  very  unkind  and 
improper. 

And  so,  each  time  that  Landry  sacrificed  his  own 
enjoyment  to  his  brother's  exacting  affection  for  him, 


42  FADETTE 

he  spent  a  rather  dull  Sunday ;  yet  he  never  failed  to 
come,  knowing  that  it  would  gratify  Sylvinet,  and 
willing  to  be  bored  a  little  for  the  sake  of  giving 
his  brother  some  pleasure. 

So  when  he  found  that  his  brother,  who  had  picked 
a  quarrel  with  him  during  the  week,  had  left  the 
house  so  as  not  to  make  up  with  him,  it  was  his 
turn  to  feel  hurt,  and  for  the  first  time  since  he  had 
left  home,  he  went  off  and  hid  himself  to  have  a  good 
cry ;  for  he  was  ashamed  to  let  his  parents  see  how 
much  he  felt  Sylvinet's  conduct,  and  did  not  wish  to 
add  to"  their  troubles. 

If  anybody  had  cause  for  jealousy,  it  was  Landry, 
far  more  than  Sylvinet.  Sylvinet  was  his  mother's 
favorite,  and  even  Father  Barbeau,  though  in  his 
heart  he  preferred  Landry,  was  more  indulgent  to 
Sylvinet.  The  poor  child,  being  more  delicate  and 
not  so  bright,  was  also  more  spoiled,  and  they  did 
not  like  to  cross  him.  His  lot  was  the  easier,  for  he 
lived  at  home  and  his  twin  had  sacrificed  himself  to 
save  him  from  leaving  his  parents  and  earning  his 
living  by  hard  work. 

This  was  the  first  time  that  Landry  had  taken  this 
view  of  the  matter,  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  his  brother  was  treating  him  with  great  injustice. 
Hitherto  his  kind  heart  had  prevented  him  from 
blaming  Sylvinet,  and  rather  than  accuse  him,  he 
had  thought  that  it  must  be  his  own  fault,  —  that  he 
was  too  overflowing  with  health  and  spirits,  too  fond 
of  work  and  of  pleasure,  and  not  so  dependent  on 


FADETTE  43 

delicate  attentions  as  his  brother.  But  this  time  he 
could  not  discover  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  any 
offence  against  their  mutual  affection ;  for  by  com- 
ing to-day,  he  had  missed  a  delightful  crabbing 
party  which  the  La  Priche  boys  had  been  planning 
all  the  week,  and  which  they  told  him  he  would  be 
sure  to  enjoy,  if  he  would  only  go  with  them.  So 
he  had  resisted  a  great  temptation,  and  at  his  age 
that  is  saying  a  good  deal.  When  he  had  been  cry- 
ing a  long  time,  he  stopped  to  listen  to  some  one  else, 
who  was  also  crying  not  far  off,  and  talking  to  her- 
self as  our  peasant  women  often  do  when  in  trouble. 
Landry  knew  at  once  that  it  was  his  mother,  and 
hastened  to  join  her. 

"Oh,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  why  does  this  child 
make  me  suffer  so?  He  will  surely  be  the  death  of 
me !  "  said  she,  sobbing. 

"Do  I  make  you  suffer?"  exclaimed  Landry, 
throwing  his  arms  around  her  neck.  "  If  it  is  my 
fault,  punish  me,  but  don't  cry!  I  don't  know  what 
I  can  have  done  to  displease  you,  but  I  beg  your 
pardon,  all  the  same." 

Then  his  mother  saw  that  Landry  was  not  so  hard- 
hearted as  she  had  so  often  imagined.  She  kissed 
him  tenderly,  and  hardly  knowing  what  she  said,  she 
was  so  agitated,  she  told  him  that  it  was  not  he  but 
Sylvinet  who  had  grieved  her;  that  although  she 
had  sometimes  done  him  an  injustice,  she  now  wished 
to  make  amends  for  it ;  but  that  Sylvinet  seemed 
to  have  lost  his  senses,  and  she  was  very  unhappy 


44  FADETTE 

about  him,  because  he  had  gone  off  before  daylight, 
without  taking  anything  to  eat.  It  was  now  near 
sunset,  and  he  had  not  yet  returned.  He  had  been 
seen  about  noonday,  down  by  the  river,  and  at  last 
Mother  Barbeau  began  to  fear  that  he  had  drowned 
himself. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

LANDRY'S  imagination  caught  at  this  notion  of  his 
mother's,  that  Sylvinet  might  have  made  way  with 
himself,  as  quickly  as  a  spider's  web  catches  a  fly,  and 
he  at  once  set  out  in  search  of  his  brother.  He  felt 
very  unhappy  as  he  ran  along,  and  said  to  himself: 
"  Perhaps  my  mother  was  right  when  she  accused  me 
of  being  hard-hearted.  But  surely  Sylvinet  must  be 
hard-hearted  too,  or  he  would  not  cause  my  mother 
and  me  so  much  anxiety." 

He  ran  about  in  all  directions  without  seeing  any- 
thing of  him, — asking  after  him  from  every  one  he 
met,  calling  him  without  getting  any  answer ;  but  all 
was  in  vain.  At  last  he  came  to  the  rush  field,  and 
went  in,  knowing  that  one  of  Sylvinet's  haunts  was 
there.  It  was  a  deep  hollow  where  the  river  had 
washed  away  two  or  three  alder  trees,  which  still  lay 
with  their  roots  uppermost.  Father  Barbeau  would  not 
have  them  removed.  He  let  them  stay  there,  because 
they  had  fallen  in  such  a  way  that  the  earth  still 
adhered  to  their  roots,  which  was  very  lucky ;  for 
every  winter  the  water  did  a  great  deal  of  damage  in 
his  rush  field,  and  he  lost  a  good  bit  of  land  each 
year. 

So  Landry  ran  over  to  the  "  Hollow,"  as  he  and 
his  brother  called  that  part  of  their  rush  field.  He 
45 


46  FADETTE 

did  not  take  time  to  go  to  the  corner  where  they  had 
built  themselves  a  little  stairway  of  sods,  supported 
by  stones,  and  big  roots  which  protruded  from  the 
earth  and  sent  out  young  shoots.  He  jumped  down 
at  the  first  place  he  came  to,  so  as  to  get  to  the 
bottom  of  the  Hollow  as  soon  as  possible ;  for  the 
grass  and  bushes  along  the  river  bank  were  so  much 
taller  than  he,  that  even  if  his  brother  had  been 
there,  he  could  not  have  found  him  by  looking 
down  from  above. 

So  he  entered  the  Hollow,  feeling  very  anxious ; 
for  he  could  not  help  thinking  of  what  his  mother 
had  said  about  the  possibility  of  Sylvinefs  having 
drowned  himself.  He  went  in  and  out  among  the 
bushes,  beating  the  grass,  calling  Sylvinet,  and 
whistling  to  the  dog,  which  had  probably  followed 
him ;  for  he  had  been  gone  all  day,  as  well  as  his 
young  master. 

But  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  there  was  none  but 
himself  to  be  found  in  the  Hollow.  As  he  was  a 
very  observing  boy,  and  did  everything  very  thor- 
oughly, he  examined  the  banks  to  see  if  he  could 
find  any  footprints,  or  any  place  where  the  earth 
seemed  to  be  disturbed.  It  was  an  anxious  and 
troublesome  search ;  for  Landry  had  not  been  there 
for  over  a  month,  and  though  he  knew  each  nook 
and  corner  of  the  ground  as  well  as  he  did  his  own 
hand,  it  was  impossible  that  there  should  not  have 
been  some  slight  change.  The  entire  right  bank 
was  covered  with  turf,  and  even  at  the  bottom  of 


FADETTE  47 

the  Hollow  the  rushes  and  horsetails  had  grown  up 
so  rank  and  luxuriant,  that  there  was  not  a  bare  spot 
big  enough  to  hold  a  footprint. 

However,  after  a  long  search,  Landry  found  the 
impress  of  a  dog's  paw  in  a  remote  corner.  There 
was  also  a  spot  where  the  grass  had  been  trampled 
down,  as  if  Finot,  or  some  other  dog  of  his  size,  had 
lain  there  curled  up.  This  attracted  his  notice,  and 
he  made  a  still  more  minute  examination  of  the 
river  bank.  He  found  what  seemed  to  him  a  fresh 
break,  as  if  made  by  the  foot  of  a  person  jumping 
or  sliding  down  the  slope,  though  it  was  quite  pos- 
sible that  it  was  the  work  of  one  of  those  big  water- 
rats,  which  scratch  and  dig  and  gnaw  in  such  places. 
He  was  so  alarmed  that  his  legs  refused  to  carry  him, 
and  he  fell  on  his  knees  as  if  to  ask  for  help  from 
Heaven. 

He  remained  in  this  position  for  a  short  time,  hav- 
ing neither  strength  nor  courage  to  go  and  tell  any- 
body what  had  caused  his  alarm,  and  gazing  at  the 
river  with  tearful  eyes,  as  if  asking  what  had  become 
of  his  brother.  And  all  the  while  the  river  flowed 
tranquilly  on,  swaying  the  branches  of  the  trees 
which  hung  over  its  banks,  dipping  their  twigs  in 
its  waters,  and  pursuing  its  course  through  the  fields, 
murmuring  low  to  itself,  with  a  sound  like  mocking 
laughter. 

Poor  Landry  was  so  possessed  with  the  idea  that 
some  terrible  misfortune  had  occurred,  that  he  lost 
his  head  completely,  and  magnified  a  trifle  which 


48  FADETTE 

was,  no  doubt,  quite  easy  to  explain,  till  it  drove  him 
to  absolute  desperation.  "  This  wicked  river  which 
will  not  answer  me,"  thought  he,  "  and  which  would 
let  me  go  on  weeping  a  whole  year,  without  giving 
me  back  my  brother,  is  deepest  just  at  that  place,  and 
is  so  filled  with  stumps  since  the  time  of  the  inun- 
dation, that  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  out  again, 
if  one  should  fall  in.  Great  God!  can  it  be  possible 
that  my  twin  is  in  there,  under  the  water,  lying 
scarcely  two  feet  away  from  me  and  I  could  never 
find  him  among  the  reeds  and  branches  even  if  I 
should  go  down  there!" 

So  he  began  to  weep  for  his  brother,  and  to  re- 
proach him,  for  never  in  his  life  had  he  been  so 
unhappy. 

At  last  it  occurred  to  him  to  consult  a  widow, 
named  Mother  Fadet,  who  lived  at  the  other  end 
of  the  rush  field,  near  the  road  which  led  down  to 
the  ford.  This  woman,  whose  only  property  con- 
sisted of  her  little  garden  and  house,  never  lacked 
for  bread ;  for  she  was  very  learned  in  all  that  relates 
to  human  ills  and  mishaps,  and  people  came  from 
far  and  near  to  consult  her.  She  was  a  magic  healer ; 
that  is  to  say,  she  cured  wounds,  bruises,  and  all 
sorts  of  fractures,  by  means  known  only  to  herself. 
Indeed,  she  took  rather  too  much  upon  herself,  for 
she  claimed  to  be  able  to  cure  diseases  which  never 
existed ;  such  as  displacement  of  the  stomach,  or 
rupture  of  the  abdominal  wall,  and  I  must  say  I 
have  never  put  much  faith  in  the  possibility  of  such 


FADETTE  49 

ailments,  any  more  than  I  could  believe  that  she  had 
power  to  cause  a  good  cow's  milk  to  pass  into  the 
body  of  a  poor  one,  however  old  or  ill-fed  she  might 
be. 

But  there  is  no  doubt  she  earned  her  money  hon- 
estly by  her  excellent  remedies  for  chills,  her  healing 
plasters  for  cuts  and  burns,  and  the  potions  which 
she  concocted  to  allay  fever,  and  that  she  had  saved 
many  a  patient  whom  the  doctors  would  have  killed, 
had  they  been  allowed  to  prescribe  for  them.  At 
least,  so  she  said,  and  those  whom  she  had  bene- 
fited thought  best  to  believe  her,  instead  of  express- 
ing any  doubts.  As  country  folks  always  suspect 
any  one  who  has  any  special  skill  of  being  in  league 
with  the  devil,  many  people  believed  that  Mother 
Fadet  knew  much  more  than  she  was  willing  to 
tell,  and  it  was  said  that  she  could  find  lost  things 
and  even  persons.  In  fact,  because  she  was  clever 
enough  to  be  able  to  assist  people  in  natural  and  pos- 
sible ways,  they  took  it  for  granted  that  she  could  do 
the  same  in  things  beyond  human  ken. 

As  children  listen  eagerly  to  all  sorts  of  stories, 
Landry  had  heard  from  the  La  Priche  folks,  who  are 
known  to  be  more  simple-minded  and  credulous  than 
they  are  at  La  Cosse,  that  Mother  Fadet  could  find 
the  body  of  a  person  who  had  been  drowned,  by 
means  of  a  certain  seed  which  she  threw  into  the 
water,  pronouncing  a  spell  as  she  did  so.  The  seed 
floated  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  the  poor 
body  was  certain  to  be  found  where  it  stopped. 
E 


50  FADETTE 

There  are  many  persons  who  believe  that  blessed 
bread  has  the  same  wonderful  properties,  and  there 
are  few  mills  where  they  do  not  keep  a  supply  on  hand 
for  such  emergencies.  But  Landry  had  none  ;  Mother 
Fadet  lived  close  by  the  rush  field,  and  there  is  no 
time  for  reflection  when  one  is  in  such  distress. 

So  off  he  ran  to  Mother  Fadet's  dwelling,  and  told 
her  the  trouble  he  was  in,  and  begged  her  to  come  to 
the  Hollow  with  him,  and  use  her  magic  to  find  his 
brother,  alive  or  dead. 

But  Mother  Fadet,  who  did  not  care  to  risk  her 
reputation,  and  was  not  at  all  disposed  to  exercise 
her  talents  for  nothing,  laughed  at  him,  and  ordered 
him  away  harshly  enough ;  for  she  had  taken  great 
offence  when  the  family  at  the  Twinnery  had  employed 
La  Sagette  as  nurse  in  preference  to  herself,  as  had 
happened  more  than  once  in  the  past. 

Landry,  who  had  his  own  share  of  pride,  would 
probably,  at  any  other  time,  have  protested  or  given 
her  a  sharp  answer,  but  he  was  so  agitated  that  he 
had  not  a  word  to  say,  and  started  to  go  back  to  the 
Hollow,  determined  to  jump  into  the  water,  though 
he  could  neither  dive  nor  swim.  But  as  he  trudged 
along  with  drooping  head,  and  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground,  he  felt  a  tap  on  his  shoulder,  and  turning 
round  saw  Mother  Fadet's  granddaughter,  whom  the 
country  people  called  little  Fadette,  as  much  because 
she  was  herself  a  bit  of  a  witch  as  because  it  was  her 
family  name.  As  you  all  know,  the  fadet  or  the  far- 
fadet,  which  in  other  places  is  called  the  will-o'-the- 


FADETTE  51 

wisp,  is  a  very  pretty  little  sprite  though  rather  mis- 
chievous. Fairies  are  also  called  fades  in  our  part  of 
the  country,  though  nobody  believes  in  them  nowa- 
days. But  whether  they  meant  a  little  fairy  or  a 
female  spirit,  nobody  could  look  at  her  without  think- 
ing of  a  will-o'-the-wisp, — she  was  so  little,  so  thin, 
so  dishevelled  and  so  bold.  She  was  a  very  talkative 
and  saucy  child,  lively  as  a  butterfly,  inquisitive  as  a 
robin  redbreast,  and  brown  as  a  cricket. 

And  when  I  compare  little  Fadette  to  a  cricket,  I 
mean  to  say  that  she  was  not  pretty ;  for  this  poor 
little  field  chirper  is  still  uglier  than  his  brother  of 
the  chimney  corner.  If,  however,  you  can  remember 
how  you  used  to  play  with  them  when  you  were  a 
child,  teasing  them  and  making  them  chirp  angrily  in 
your  sabot,  you  must  know  that  they  have  queer,  in- 
telligent little  faces,  which  make  you  feel  more  like 
laughing  at  them  than  getting  angry.  So  the  children 
of  La  Cosse,  who  were  as  clever  as  other  children 
and  as  quick  to  notice  resemblances  and  make  com- 
parisons, called  little  Fadette  the  "  Cricket,"  when 
they  wanted  to  make  her  mad,  and  sometimes  by  way 
of  a  pet  name ;  for  though  they  stood  a  little  in  awe 
of  her  on  account  of  her  impish  ways,  they  did  not 
dislike  her,  for  she  told  them  all  sorts  of  stories  and 
was  always  teaching  them  new  games  which  she  had 
the  wit  to  invent. 

But  all  these  names  and  nicknames  have  made  me 
forget  to  mention  the  one  which  was  bestowed  upon 
her  in  baptism,  and  which  you  would  perhaps  like  to 


52  FADETTE 

know  later  on.  Her  name  was  Fran9oise,  and  so  her 
grandmother,  who  did  not  like  nicknames,  called  her 
Fanchon. 

As  there  was  a  coolness  of  long  standing  between 
the  Twinnery  folks  and  Mother  Fadet,  the  twins 
never  talked  much  to  little  Fadette ;  indeed,  they 
rather  avoided  her,  and  never  cared  to  play  with  her 
or  her  little  brother,  the  "Grasshopper,"  who  was 
more  dried  up  and  impish-looking  than  his  sister,  and 
was  always  hanging  on  to  her  skirts,  flying  into  a 
rage  when  she  ran  off  without  waiting  for  him,  trying 
to  throw  stones  at  her  when  she  teased  him,  getting 
more  furious  than  would  seem  possible  for  one  of  his 
size,  and  provoking  her  in  spite  of  herself,  for  she 
was  a  merry  little  thing  and  ready  to  laugh  at  any- 
thing. But  there  was  such  an  impression  prevailing 
about  Mother  Fadet  that  some  people,  especially 
the  Barbeaus,  fancied  that  the  "Cricket"  and  the 
"  Grasshopper "  would  bring  them  some  ill-luck  if 
they  made  friends  with  them.  This  did  not  prevent 
the  two  children  from  speaking  to  them,  for  they 
were  not  bashful,  and  little  Fadette  never  failed  to 
call  out  all  sorts  of  nicknames  and  nonsense  after  the 
twins  of  the  Twinnery,  as  far  off  as  she  could  see 
them. 


CHAPTER  IX 

So  poor  Landry  turned  around,  rather  irritated  by 
the  tap  on  his  shoulder,  and  saw  little  Fadette,  and 
not  far  behind  her,  Jeanet,  the  Grasshopper,  hob- 
bling along  after  her,  for  he  had  been  born  with  a 
misshapen  body  and  crooked  legs. 

At  first  Landry  refused  to  take  any  notice  of  them, 
but  kept  right  on,  for  he  was  in  no  mood  for  fun- 
making  ;  but  Fadette  said  to  him,  tapping  him  on 
the  other  shoulder : 

•  "  Wolf!  Wolf!  you  naughty  twin ;  you  half  a  boy, 
who  has  lost  his  other  half!"  Thereupon  Landry, 
who  was  no  more  in  the  mood  to  be  insulted  than 
to  stand  teasing,  turned  and  aimed  a  blow  of  his  fist 
at  little  Fadette,  which  would  have  hurt  her,  had  she 
not  dodged  aside ;  for  the  twin  was  going  on  fifteen, 
and  knew  the  use  of  his  arms,  and  she,  though  nearly 
fourteen,  was  so  slender  and  delicate  that  she  did  not 
look  more  than  twelve,  and  seemed  as  if  she  would 
break  in  two  if  you  touched  her. 

But  she  was  too  nimble  and  too  much  on  her  guard 
to  stand  still  and  take  his  blows,  and  what  she  lacked 
in  strength  she  made  up  in  agility  and  cunning. 
She  dodged  so  cleverly  around  a  big  tree,  that  Lan- 
dry came  near  running  his  nose  and  his  fist  against  it 
53 


54  FADETTE 

"  You  good-for-nothing  Cricket !  "  cried  Landry,  in 
a  rage;  ''you  must  be  perfectly  heartless  to  try  and 
torment  any  one  who  is  in  such  trouble  as  I  am! 
You've  been  teasing  me  this  long  while  back,  by  call- 
ing me  a  half-boy,  and  I've  a  great  mind  to  break  you 
and  your  ugly  Grasshopper  into  quarters,  to  see  if 
both  of  you  together  would  make  a  quarter  of  any- 
thing decent." 

"Indeed,  my  fine  twin  of  the  Twinnery!  Lord  of 
the  rush  field  on  the  river  bank!"  answered  little 
Fadette,  sneering  at  him  again.  "You  are  a  great 
fool  to  quarrel  with  me  just  when  I  was  about  to  give 
you  some  news  of  your  twin  and  tell  you  where  to  find 
him." 

"  That  is  a  different  thing,"  said  Landry,  quieting 
down  at  once  ;  "  do  tell  me,  Fadette,  if  you  know  ;  I 
shall  be  so  thankful.15 

"  Fadette  doesn't  care  to  please  you  any  more  than 
the  Cricket  did  a  little  while  ago,"  answered  the 
little  girl.  "You  have  been  abusing  me,  and  you 
would  have  struck  me,  if  you  had  not  been  so  awk- 
ward and  clumsy.  Go  and  find  your  fool  of  a 
brother  yourself,  if  you  know  so  much  about  it." 

"I  am  a  fool  to  listen  to  you,  you  wicked  girl," 
said  Landry,  turning  his  back  on  her,  and  walking 
on.  "You  don't  know  where  my  brother  is  any 
more  than  I  do,  and  you  are  no  wiser  than  your 
grandmother,  who  is  an  old  liar  and  as  worthless  as 
she  can  be." 

But  little  Fadette,  dragging  her  little  Grasshopper 


FADETTE  55 

along  by  one  claw,  —  for  he  had  managed  to  catch 
up  to  her  and  was  hanging  on  to  her  ragged,  ash- 
covered  petticoats,  —  followed  on  behind  Landry, 
jeering  at  him  and  telling  him  that  he  would  never 
find  his  brother  without  her  help.  So  Landry,  not 
being  able  to  get  rid  of  her  and  fancying  that  she 
or  her  grandmother  —  by  some  piece  of  witchcraft  or 
by  connivance  with  the  will-o'-the-wisp  of  the  river  — 
might  prevent  his  finding  Sylvinet,  determined  to 
take  a  short  cut  across  the  rush  field  and  go  home. 

Little  Fadette  followed  him  to  the  turnstile  which 
led  into  the  meadow,  and  when  he  had  crossed  it,  she 
perched  herself  on  the  top  rail  like  a  magpie,  and 
called  after  him : 

"Good-bye,  you  pretty,  hard-hearted  twin!  who 
leaves  his  brother  behind  him.  You  may  wait  sup- 
per as  long  as  you  like,  you  won't  see  him  to-day  or 
to-morrow  either!  He  can't  stir  from  where  he  is, 
any  more  than  a  stone,  and  there  is  a  storm  coming 
up!  There  will  be  more  trees  in  the  river  to-night, 
and  the  river  will  carry  Sylvinet  away,  so  far,  so  far 
that  you  will  never  find  him  again!  " 

These  spiteful  words,  to  which  Landry  could  not 
help  listening,  made  a  cold  sweat  break  out  all  over 
his  body.  He  did  not  absolutely  believe  them,  but 
the  Fadet  family  had  so  well  established  a  reputation 
for  dealings  with  the  devil,  that  one  could  not  be 
certain  that  there  was  nothing  in  it. 

"See  here,  Fanchon!"  said  Landry,  standing  still, 
"tell  me,  yes  or  no,  will  you  leave  me  alone,  or 


56  FADETTE 

say  whether  you  really  know  anything  about  my 
brother ! " 

"  And  what  will  you  give  me  if  I  help  you  find 
your  brother  before  it  begins  to  rain  ? "  asked  Fadette, 
standing  on  the  top  rail  and  waving  her  arms  as  if 
about  to  fly. 

Landry  did  not  know  what  to  promise  her,  but  he 
began  to  think  that  she  was  trying  to  get  some 
money  out  of  him.  But  the  wind  whistling  through 
the  trees,  and  the  distant  rumble  of  thunder,  worked 
him  up  into  a  perfect  panic.  It  was  not  that  he  was 
afraid  of  an  ordinary  storm,  but  this  one  had  come 
up  so  suddenly  and  in  a  way  which  seemed  to  him 
supernatural.  It  may  be  that  in  his  agitation 
Landry  had  not  noticed  it  gathering  behind  the  trees 
along  the  river  bank,  particularly  as,  having  spent 
two  hours  in  the  Hollow  down  by  the  Val,  he  had 
not  been  able  to  see  the  sky  till  he  had  reached 
high  ground.  But,  however  that  may  be,  he  had 
not  noticed  that  there  was  a  storm  brewing  till  the 
moment  when  little  Fadette  announced  it,  when  lo 
and  behold!  out  flew  her  skirt,  her  ugly  black  hail 
escaped  from  under  her  cap,  which  was  always  untied 
and  tilted  over  one  ear,  and  stood  out  like  a  mane. 

The  Grasshopper's  cap  was  carried  away  by  a  gust, 
and  Landry  had  all  that  he  could  do  to  keep  his  hat 
from  following  it. 

In  less  than  two  minutes  the  sky  had  grown  very 
black,  and  Fadette,  standing  on  the  rail,  looked  twice 
as  tall  as  usual ;  in  short,  we  may  as  well  own  that 
Landry  was  frightened. 


FADETTE  57 

"  Fanchon,"  said  he,  "  I  will  give  in,  if  you  will 
give  me  back  my  brother.  Maybe  you've  seen  him 
and  know  where  he  is.  Come,  be  a  good  girl!  I 
can1!  see  what  pleasure  you  can  take  in  seeing  me 
suffer.  Show  me  that  you  have  a  kind  heart,  and  I 
will  believe  that  you  are  better  than  one  would  sup 
pose  from  your  looks  and  words." 

"  And  why  should  I  be  a  good  girl  to  please  you  ?  " 
answered  she,  "  when  you  treat  me  as  if  I  were  a  bad 
girl,  though  I  have  never  done  anything  to  you? 
Why  should  I  be  good  to  twins  who  are  as  proud  as 
peacocks,  and  who  have  never  shown  me  the  least 
little  bit  of  kindness?  " 

"  Come,  Fadette,"  said  Landry,  "  you  want  me  to 
promise  you  something.  Tell  me  quick  what  you 
want,  and  I  will  give  it  to  you.  Would  you  like  to 
have  my  new  knife  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  cried  Fadette,  leaping  down  be- 
side him  like  a  frog. 

When  she  had  seen  the  knife,  which  was  a  pretty 
good  one,  for  which  Landry's  godfather  had  paid  ten 
sous  at  the  last  fair,  she  was  tempted  for  a  moment. 
But  she  soon  decided  it  was  not  enough,  and  asked 
him  if  he  would  give  her  instead  his  little  white  hen 
which  was  no  bigger  than  a  pigeon  and  had  feathers 
down  to  the  very  tips  of  its  toes. 

"  I  can't  promise  you  my  white  hen,  because  she 
belongs  to  my  mother,"  answered  Landry ;  "  but  I 
promise  that  I  will  ask  her  to  give  it  to  you,  and  I 
am  sure  that  she  won't  refuse,  for  she  will  be  so  glad 


58  FADETTE 

to  get  Sylvinet  back  again  that  she  will  not  grudge 
you  anything." 

"Indeed!"  said  little  Fadette;  "  and  what  if  I 
should  take  it  into  my  head  to  ask  for  your  black- 
nosed  kid ;  would  Mother  Barbeau  give  me  that 
too?" 

"  Good  heavens !  How  long  it  takes  you  to  make 
up  your  mind,  Fanchon!  Listen!  There  are  no 
two  words  about  it?  If  my  brother  is  in  danger, 
and  you  take  me  to  him  at  once,  I  am  very  sure 
there  is  not  a  hen  or  a  chicken,  a  goat  or  a  kid,  about 
the  place,  which  my  father  and  mother  would  not 
gladly  give  you  as  a  reward." 

"Well!  We'll  see  about  it,  Landry,"  said  little 
Fadette,  holding  out  her  scrawny  little  hand  to  the 
boy,  so  that  they  might  shake  hands  on  their  bargain, 
which  he  did,  but  not  without  fear  and  trembling ;  for 
at  that  moment  her  eyes  glowed  so  that  she  looked 
a  very  incarnation  of  the  will-o'-the-wisp.  "  I  will 
not  tell  you  what  I  want  of  you!  perhaps  I  have  not 
yet  made  up  my  mind ;  but  don't  forget  what  you 
have  promised  me,  and  if  you  do  not  keep  your  prom- 
ise to  me,  I  shall  tell  everybody  that  there  is  no 
trusting  the  word  of  Landry,  the  twin.  So  now 
good-bye,  and  don't  forget  that  I  shall  not  ask  you 
for  anything  till  the  day  when  I  take  it  into  my  head 
to  hunt  you  up,  and  demand  something  which  you 
must  place  at  my  disposal  at  once,  and  with  a  good 
grace." 

"  All  right,  Fadette !  I  promise  you ;  it  is  a  bar- 
gain, "  said  Landry,  shaking  hands  with  her. 


FADETTE  59 

"  Well,"  said  she,  looking  quite  pleased  and  proud, 
"  go  back  to  the  river  bank,  and  keep  on  till  you  hear 
a  bleating,  and  where  you  see  a  black  lamb,  you  will 
see  your  brother  too.  If  it  doesn't  turn  out  as  I  tell 
you,  I  let  you  off  your  promise." 

And  then  the  Cricket,  tucking  the  Grasshopper 
under  her  arm,  and  never  heeding  his  struggles,  for 
he  wriggled  like  an  eel,  ran  off  into  the  bushes,  and 
Landry  saw  or  heard  no  more  of  them  than  if  it  had 
all  been  a  dream.  He  wasted  no  time  wondering 
whether  little  Fadette  had  been  making  fun  of  him. 
He  hurried  to  the  other  end  of  the  rush  field,  without 
drawing  breath ;  he  ran  along  its  border  till  he 
reached  the  Hollow,  and  then  he  was  about  to  go  on 
without  stopping,  as  he  had  already  examined  the 
spot  so  closely  that  he  was  sure  Sylvinet  was  not 
there,  but  just  at  that  moment  he  heard  the  bleating 
of  a  lamb. 

"Oh,  my  God!"  thought  he,  "that  girl  told  the 
truth.  I  hear  the  lamb,  my  brother  must  be  there, 
but  I  don't  know  whether  he  is  dead  or  alive! " 

He  jumped  down  into  the  Hollow  and  pushed  his 
way  through  the  bushes.  His  brother  was  not  there  ;- 
but  following  the  stream  for  ten  paces  or  so,  still 
hearing  the  lamb  bleat,  Landry  saw  his  brother 
sitting  on  the  opposite  bank,  holding  a  little  lamb  in 
his  blouse,  which  was  indeed  quite  black,  from  the 
tip  of  its  nose  to  the  end  of  its  tail. 

As  Sylvinet  was  very  much  alive  indeed,  and  bore 
no  traces  of  any  injury  about  his  clothes  or  his  per- 


60  FADETTE 

son,  Landry  was  so  overjoyed  that  he  fell  to  thanking 
God  in  his  heart,  and  never  thought  of  asking  par- 
don for  having  resorted  to  the  assistance  of  the  devil, 
that  he  might  attain  this  happiness.  But  as  he  was 
about  to  call  out  to  Sylvinet,  who  had  not  yet  seen 
him,  and  did  not  appear  to  have  heard  him,  on  ac- 
count of  the  rippling  of  the  water  over  the  stones,  he 
paused  to  take  a  look  at  him ;  for  he  was  amazed  to 
find  him  just  as  little  Fadette  had  predicted,  sitting 
as  still  as  a  stone  among  the  trees,  through  which 
the  wind  was  howling  like  a  tempest. 

Every  one  knows  that  it  is  dangerous  to  remain 
close  to  our  river  when  the  wind  is  blowing  hard.  All 
its  banks  are  undermined,  and  there  is  not  a  storm 
which  does  not  uproot  some  of  the  many  alder  trees, 
which  always  have  short  roots,  unless  they  are  very 
large  and  old,  and  which  are  likely  to  fall  on  you 
without  any  warning.  But  Sylvinet,  though  he  had  as 
good  sense  as  the  next  one,  did  not  seem  to  be  aware 
of  his  danger.  He  appeared  to  think  himself  as  safe 
as  if  he  had  taken  shelter  in  a  good  barn.  Tired  out 
with  his  all-day  tramp,  and  his  aimless  wanderings, 
though,  as  it  happened,  he  had  not  drowned  himself 
in  the  river,  it  was  easy  enough  to  see  that  he  was  so 
overwhelmed  with  grief  and  so  heavy-hearted  that 
he  lay  there  like  a  log,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  stream, 
his  face  as  pale  as  a  water-lily,  his  mouth  half  open 
like  a  little  fish  gaping  at  the  sun,  his  hair  blown 
about  by  the  wind,  and  not  even  taking  any  notice 
of  the  lamb,  which  he  had  found  roaming  about  in 


FADETTE  61 

the  meadow,  and  had  carried  with  him  out  of  pity. 
He  had  put  it  in  his  blouse,  intending  to  return  it  to 
its  owner,  but  had  forgotten  to  ask  along  the  road 
to  whom  the  lamb  belonged.  He  let  it  lie  on  his 
lap  and  did  not  listen  to  its  bleatings,  though  the 
poor  little  thing  kept  up  a  most  mournful  noise,  and 
looked  about  with  its  big,  bright  eyes,  wondering  that 
none  of  its  kindred  were  there  to  hear  its  cries.  This 
shady  spot,  all  overgrown  with  grass,  beside  a  large 
stream  of  water,  which,  no  doubt,  seemed  very  alarm- 
ing to  the  poor  little  beast,  looked  very  unfamiliar, 
and  not  at  all  like  its  native  meadow,  where  were  its 
mother  and  its  fold. 


CHAPTER  X 

IF  Landry  had  not  been  separated  from  Sylvinet 
by  the  river,  which  is  nowhere  more  than  four  or  five 
yards  wide,  but  which  at  some  points  is  as  deep  as 
it  is  broad,  he  would  certainly  have  rushed  into  his 
brother's  arms,  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  But 
as  Sylvinet  had  not  even  seen  him,  he  had  time  to 
think  how  he  might  rouse  him  from  his  meditations, 
and  persuade  him  to  go  home ;  for  if  the  poor,  sulky 
boy  should  not  be  willing  to  go,  he  could  easily 
run  away,  and  it  would  take  Landry  some  time  to 
find  a  ford  or  a  foot-bridge  so  as  to  follow  him.  So 
Landry,  after  thinking  it  over  a  little  while,  tried 
to  imagine  what  his  father  would  have  done  in  such 
a  case ;  for  he  knew  him  to  be  a  sensible  man,  with 
prudence  enough  tor  four.  Luckily,  he  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  Father  Barbeau  would  take  it  very 
quietly,  pretending  that  there  was  nothing  out  of  the 
way,  so  as  not  to  let  Sylvinet  know  how  much  anxi- 
ety he  had  caused,  that  he  might  neither  repent  it 
too  bitterly,  nor  be  disposed  to  try  it  again  the  next 
time  anything  happened  to  offend  him. 

So  he  began  to  whistle  as  if  trying  to  make  the 
blackbirds  sing,  just  as  the  shepherd  boys  do  when 
they  go  through  the  bushes  at  nightfall. 
62 


FADETTE  63 

This  made  Sylvinet  raise  his  head,  and  when  he 
saw  his  brother,  he  was  ashamed  of  himself,  and  got 
up  at  once,  thinking  that  Landry  had  not  seen  him. 
Then  Landry  pretended  that  he  had  just  caught  sight 
of  him,  and  called  to  him  in  his  ordinary  tone  of 
voice,  for  the  river  did  not  make  enough  noise  to 
prevent  their  talking  to  each  other : 

"Hello,  Sylvinet!  Is  that  you?  I  waited  for  you 
all  the  morning,  and  finding  that  you  had  gone  out 
for  such  a  long  time,  I  walked  over  here  while  they 
were  getting  supper,  and  expected  to  find  you  at 
home  when  I  went  back.  But  now  that  you  are  here, 
we'll  go  back  together.  We  can  go  down  the  river, 
one  on  either  side,  and  we1!!  meet  at  the  Roulettes 
ford." 

"  Come  along,"  said  Sylvinet,  picking  up  his  lamb, 
which  did  not  know  him  well  enough  to  follow  of  its 
own  accord,  and  they  walked  down  the  river,  not  dar- 
ing to  look  at  each  other;  for  neither  wished  the 
other  to  see  how  much  he  had  suffered  on  account  of 
the  quarrel,  nor  how  glad  he  was  to  see  his  brother 
once  more.  Every  now  and  then  Landry  said  a  word 
or  two  as  they  walked  along,  so  that  he  might  not 
appear  to  notice  his  brother's  sullen  mood.  First  he 
asked  him  where  he  had  found  the  little  black  lamb, 
and  Sylvinet  rather  evaded  the  question,  for  he  did 
not  even  know  the  names  of  the  places  through  which 
he  had  passed.  So  then,  Landry,  seeing  his  embar- 
rassment, said  to  him,  "You  may  tell  me  all  about 
it  by  and  bye,  for  the  wind  is  high,  and  it  is  danger- 


64  FADETTE 

ous  to  stay  among  the  trees  by  the  river.  But  luckily 
it  is  beginning  to  rain,  and  the  wind  will  soon  fall." 

And  he  said  to  himself:  "The  Cricket  was  right 
when  she  said  that  I  should  find  him  before  the  rain 
began.  That  girl  certainly  does  know  more  than  the 
rest  of  us." 

He  did  not  take  into  consideration  that  he  had 
wasted  fully  a  quarter  of  an  hour  explaining  his  er- 
rand to  Mother  Fadet  —  she  refusing  to  listen  to  his 
entreaties  —  and  that  little  Fadette,  whom  he  had  not 
seen  till  he  was  conning  out  of  the  house,  might  very 
readily  have  caught  sight  of  Sylvinet  during  that 
explanation.  At  length  it  occurred  to  him  to  wonder 
how  she  had  known  so  well  what  he  was  worrying 
about  when  she  spoke  to  him,  for  she  had  not  been 
present  during  his  conversation  with  the  old  woman. 
He  forgot  that,  on  his  way  from  the  rush  field,  he  had 
inquired  of  several  persons  whether  they  had  seen 
his  brother,  and  that  very  likely  some  one  had  men- 
tioned it  before  little  Fadette,  or  that  perhaps  the 
little  girl  might  have  overheard  the  conclusion  of  his 
conversation  with  her  grandmother  —  hiding  herself, 
as  she  was  in  the  habit  of  doing,  so  that  she  might 
gratify  her  curiosity.  Now  Sylvinet,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  wondering  how  he  could  explain  his  bad 
behavior  to  his  mother  and  brother ;  for  Landry's 
ruse  had  taken  him  by  surprise,  and  he  could  not 
think  of  anything  to  say  —  he  who  had  never  told  a 
lie  in  his  life,  and  who  had  never  kept  anything  from 
his  brother. 


FADETTE  65 

So  he  felt  very  uneasy  as  he  crossed  the  ford,  for 
he  had  not  yet  thought  of  any  excuse  to  make.  As 
soon  as  he  reached  the  opposite  bank,  Landry  em- 
braced him,  and,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  could  not 
help  showing  more  affection  than  usual.  But  he  re- 
frained from  asking  any  questions,  for  he  saw  plainly 
enough  that  Sylvinet  had  nothing  to  say  for  himself, 
and  on  the  way  home  he  talked  about  every  imagi- 
nable thing  but  the  subject  uppermost  in  the  minds 
of  both.  As  he  passed  Mother  Fadefs  house,  he 
looked  about  for  little  Fadette,  for  he  felt  as  if  he 
should  like  to  go  and  thank  her.  But  the  door  was 
shut,  and  there  was  no  sound  to  be  heard,  except  the 
Grasshopper  howling  because  his  grandmother  had 
thrashed  him,  which  she  did  every  evening,  whether 
he  had  done  anything  to  deserve  it  or  not. 

Sylvinet  was  worried  when  he  heard  the  young 
scamp  crying,  and  said  to  his  brother : 

"  You  always  hear  screaming  and  the  sound  of 
blows  from  that  abominable  house.  I  know  the 
Grasshopper  is  as  naughty  and  provoking  as  he  can 
be,  and  as  for  the  Cricket,  I  wouldn't  give  two  cents 
for  her.  But  those  poor  children  have  no  father  or 
mother,  and  are  dependent  on  that  old  witch,  who  is 
always  in  a  bad  humor,  and  never  overlooks  anything 
they  do." 

"  That    isn't    the    way   at    our   house,"   answered 

Landry.     "Our  father  and  mother  have  never  given 

us  a  whipping   in   our  lives,  and   even   when   they 

scolded  us  for  some  childish  piece  of  mischief,  they 

F 


66  FADETTE 

did  it  so  quietly  and  gently  that  the  neighbors  could 
not  hear  them.  There  are  some  people  who  don't 
know  when  they  are  well  off,  and  yet  little  Fadette, 
who  is  the  most  unfortunate  and  ill-used  child  on 
earth,  is  always  laughing,  and  never  utters  a  com- 
plaint." 

Sylvinet  took  the  hint  and  was  sorry  for  what  he 
had  done.  He  had  repented  many  a  time  since 
morning,  and  more  than  twenty  times  had  he  been 
on  the  point  of  going  home,  but  shame  had  held  him 
back.  Now  his  breast  heaved,  and  he  wept  silently. 
But  his  brother  took  him  by  the  hand  and  said  to 
him,  "It  is  raining  hard,  Sylvinet ;  let  us  run  a  race 
to  the  house!" 

So  they  began  to  run,  Landry  trying  to  make  Syl- 
vinet laugh,  and  Sylvinet  forcing  a  smile  to  please 
him. 

Yet  when  they  reached  the  house,  Sylvinet  had  a 
great  mind  to  go  and  hide  in  the  barn ;  for  he  was 
afraid  that  his  father  would  reprove  him.  But  Father 
Barbeau,  who  did  not  take  things  so  seriously  as  his 
wife  did,  only  laughed  at  him  ;  and  Mother  Barbeau, 
who  had  had  a  long  talk  with  her  husband,  tried  not 
to  let  Sylvinet  see  how  anxious  she  had  been  about 
him.  But  while  she  was  drying  her  twins  in  front 
of  the  fire,  and  giving  them  their  supper,  Sylvinet 
noticed  that  every  now  and  then  she  gave  him  a 
look  full  of  distress  and  anxiety. 

Had  he  been  alone  with  her,  he  would  have  begged 
her  pardon,  and  consoled  her  with  his  caresses,  but 


FADETTE  67 

his  father  disapproved  of  such  blandishments,  and 
Sylvinet  did  not  get  an  opportunity  to  say  a  word  to 
her,  for  he  was  so  overcome  with  fatigue,  that  he 
had  to  go  to  bed  immediately  after  supper.  He  .had 
eaten  nothing  all  day,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  swal- 
lowed his  supper,  —  of  which  he  stood  greatly  in 
need,  —  he  felt  as  if  he  were  tipsy,  and  his  twin  had 
to  undress  him  and  put  him  to  bed,  but  sat  down  on 
the  edge  of  the  bed  beside  him,  holding  his  hand. 

When  he  saw  that  Sylvinet  was  sound  asleep, 
Landry  said  good-night  to  his  parents,  and  never 
noticed  that  his  mother  kissed  him  more  tenderly 
than  usual.  He  always  believed  that  she  could  not 
love  him  as  well  as  she  did  his  brother,  and  he  was 
not  in  the  least  jealous ;  for  he  thought  that  he  was 
not  so  lovable  as  Sylvinet,  and  that  he  got  his  full 
share  of  his  mother's  affection.  He  resigned  himself 
to  this,  as  much  to  show  respect  to  his  mother,  as 
out  of  love  for  his  brother,  who  stood  more  in  need 
of  petting  and  coddling  than  he  did.  The  next 
morning  Sylvinet  ran  to  Mother  Barbeau's  bed  be- 
fore she  was  up,  and  opened  his  heart  to  her,  con- 
fessing his  sorrow  and  shame.  He  told  her  how 
unhappy  he  had  been  for  some  time  past,  not  so 
much  on  account  of  his  separation  from  Landry,  as 
because  he  fancied  that  Landry  no  longer  loved  him. 
And  when  his  mother  asked  him  why  he  was  so  un- 
just to  Landry,  he  could  give  no  reason  ;  for  it  seemed 
to  be  a  kind  of  disease,  which  he  found  it  impossible 
to  resist.  His  mother  understood  him  better  than 


68  FADETTE 

she  allowed  him  to  suspect ;  for  a  woman's  heart  is 
prone  to  such  torments,  and  she  had  herself  often 
suffered  when  she  saw  how  self-reliant  and  independ- 
ent Landry  was.  But  now  she  realized  how  wrong 
it  is  to  allow  oneself  to  be  jealous  even  in  those  rela- 
tions of  life  which  have  the  express  sanction  of  God, 
and  she  took  good  care  not  to  encourage  this  feeling 
in  Sylvinet.  She  pointed  out  to  him  how  much 
trouble  he  had  caused  his  brother,  and  how  kind 
Landry  had  been  not  to  complain  of  him,  or  seem 
out  of  patience  with  him.  Sylvinet  agreed  with  her, 
and  owned  that  his  brother  was  a  better  Christian 
than  himself.  He  promised  and  vowed  that  he  would 
cure  himself  of  this  fault,  and  he  was  thoroughly  in 
earnest. 

But  do  what  he  would,  —  though  he  tried  to  seem 
happy  and  contented,  though  his  mother  had  dried 
his  tears  and  soothed  his  woes,  and  though  he  did 
his  utmost  to  treat  his  brother  naturally  and  justly, — 
there  was  still  a  little  leaven  of  bitterness  fermenting 
in  his  heart. 

He  could  not  help  saying  to  himself:  "  My  brother 
is  a  better  Christian  than  I  am,  and  he  is  more  up- 
right and  honorable :  my  mother  says  so,  and  it  is 
true,  but  if  he  were  as  fond  of  me  as  I  am  of  him,  he 
could  never  have  given  in  as  he  has  done." 

And  then  he  remembered  how  cool  and  indifferent 
Landry  had  seemed  when  he  found  him  by  the  river. 
How  he  had  heard  him  whistling  to  the  blackbirds 
while  he  was  looking  for  him,  at  the  very  moment 


FADETTE  69 

when  he,  Sylvinet,  was  thinking  of  throwing  himself 
into  the  river.  For  though  he  had  no  idea  of  such 
a  thing  when  he  left  home,  it  had  occurred  to  him 
more  than  once  toward  evening ;  for  he  thought  that 
his  brother  would  never  forgive  him  because  he  had 
gone  off  in  a  fit  of  the  sulks,  and  had  avoided  him 
as  he  had  never  done  before. 

"If  he  had  treated  me  so,"  thought  he,  "  I  should 
never  have  forgotten  it.  I  am  very  glad  that  he  has 
forgiven  me,  but  I  did  not,  expect  that  he  would  for- 
give me  so  readily." 

Then  the  poor  child  sighed  in  his  efforts  to  struggle 
against  his  unhappy  weakness,  and  his  struggles  did 
not  cease  with  his  sighs. 

However,  as  God  always  rewards  and  assists  those 
who  try  to  please  Him,  Sylvinet  really  was  more  sen- 
sible the  remainder  of  the  year.  He  did  not  sulk  or 
quarrel  with  his  brother ;  in  fact,  his  love  was  more 
moderate,  and  his  health,  which  had  been  impaired 
by  all  this  distress  of  mind,  was  re-established,  and 
he  began  to  gain  strength.  His  father  gave  him 
more  work  to  do,  noticing  that  the  less  time  he  had 
for  thinking,  the  better  he  felt.  But  it  is  always 
easier  to  work  for  one's  parents  than  to  work  else- 
where for  hire,  and  Landry,  who  did  not  spare  him- 
self, increased  so  in  strength  and  size  that  year,  that 
he  far  outstripped  his  brother.  The  slight  points 
of  difference  between  them  became  more  marked, 
and  passed  from  their  moral  natures  to  their  physical. 
By  the  time  they  had  completed  their  fifteenth  year, 


70  FADETTE 

Landry  was  a  fine-looking  young  man,  while  Sylvinet 
was  still  a  pretty  boy,  paler  and  more  slender  than 
his  brother.  So  they  were  no  longer  mistaken  for 
each  other,  and  though  they  still  looked  like  brothers, 
no  one  took  them  for  twins  at  first  sight.  Landry, 
who  was  born  an  hour  after  Sylvinet,  and  on  that 
account  was  called  the  younger,  impressed  strangers 
as  being  a  year  or  two  the  elder.  So  Father  Bar- 
beau's  preference  for  him  became  more  and  more 
marked ;  for,  like  most  country  people,  he  valued 
strength  and  size  above  everything. 


CHAPTER   XI 

FOR  a  short  time  after  Landry's  adventure  with 
little  Fadette,  the  boy  worried  a  good  deal  about  the 
promise  he  had  made  her.  At  the  time  when  she 
had  relieved  his  anxiety,  he  would  willingly  have 
pledged  himself  that  his  father  and  mother  would 
give  her  a  choice  of  anything  the  Twinnery  con- 
tained. But  when  he  saw  that  Father  Barbeau  had 
not  taken  Sylvi  net's  fit  of  the  sulks  so  very  much  to 
heart,  he  was  afraid  that  when  little  Fadette  came  to 
claim  her  reward,  his  father  might  shut  the  door  in 
her  face,  and  ridicule  her  pretensions  and  the  fine 
promise  which  Landry  had  made  her.  Landry  was 
very  much  mortified  at  this  idea,  and  as  his  trouble 
wore  off,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  been  very 
silly  to  fancy  that  there  was  anything  of  the  super- 
natural in  the  occurrences  of  that  afternoon.  He  was 
suspicious  that  little  Fadette  had  been  making  a  fool  of 
him,  though  there  might  be  some  doubt  on  that  sub- 
ject, and  he  could  think  of  no  good  reasons  to  give 
his  father  by  way  of  proving  to  him  that  he  had  acted 
wisely  in  making  an  agreement  which  entailed  such 
serious  consequences.  On  the  other  hand,  it  did 
not  seem  possible  to  break  the  contract ;  for  he  had 
71 


72  FADETTE 

pledged  his  word  in  perfect  honor  and  sincerity.  But, 
to  his  great  surprise,  neither  the  day  following  his 
adventure,  nor  that  month,  nor  during  the  whole  sea- 
son, did  he  hear  anything  about  little  Fadette  at  the 
Twinnery  or  at  La  Priche.  She  did  not  come  to 
Father  Caillaud's  and  ask  to  see  Landry,  nor  did  she 
go  to  Father  Barbeau's  to  put  in  her  claim,  and  when 
Landry  got  a  distant  view  of  her  in  the  fields  she  did 
not  come  to  meet  him,  and  never  took  any  notice  of 
him,  which  was  quite  unlike  her ;  for  she  was  in  the 
habit  of  running  after  everybody,  staring  at  them  in- 
quisitively, laughing,  joking,  and  chaffing  with  those 
who  were  in  a  good  humor,  or  scoffing  and  jeering  at 
those  who  were  not.  But  as  Mother  Fadet  lived 
about  half-way  between  La  Priche  and  La  Cosse, 
Landry  would  be  certain  to  meet  little  Fadette  some 
day,  face  to  face,  in  the  road ;  and  when  the  road  is 
rather  narrow,  you  cannot  well  avoid  giving  some  sort 
of  a  greeting  as  you  pass  by. 

So  one  evening  as  little  Fadette  was  bringing  home 
her  geese  —  her  Grasshopper  at  her  heels,  as  usual  — 
and  Landry,  who  had  been  to  the  meadow  after  his 
mares,  was  driving  them  quietly  along  toward  La 
Priche,  they  met  in  the  little  road  which  leads  down 
from  the  Cross  of  the  Bossons  to  the  Roulettes  ford, 
and  which  is  so  sunken  between  two  embankments 
that  there  was  no  escape.  Landry  colored,  afraid 
that  he  would  be  called  upon  to  keep  his  promise, 
and  wishing  to  discourage  Fadette,  he  jumped  on  one 
of  the  mares  the  moment  he  caught  sight  of  her,  and 


FADETTE  73 

kicked  the  animal's  sides  with  his  sabots  to  make  her 
trot.  But  as  all  the  mares  were  hobbled,  the  one  he 
was  riding  could  not  go  any  faster.  Landry,  seeing 
that  Fadette  was  close  at  hand,  did  not  dare  to  look 
at  her,  and  turned  around,  pretending  to  see  if  his 
colts  were  following  him.  When  he  looked  ahead 
again,  Fadette  had  already  passed  him,  without  say- 
ing a  word.  He  could  not  even  tell  whether  she  had 
looked  at  him,  or  tried  to  give  him  a  good-night  smile. 
He  saw  only  Jeanet,  the  Grasshopper,  who  —  as  impish 
and  hateful  as  ever  —  picked  up  a  stone  to  throw  at 
his  mare's  legs.  Landry  felt  like  giving  him  a  cut 
with  his  whip,  but  he  dreaded  having  to  stop  and  ex- 
plain matters  with  the  sister.  So  he  pretended  not 
to  see  him  and  rode  on  without  looking  back. 

The  same  thing  happened  whenever  he  met  Fadette. 
By  degrees  he  plucked  up  courage  to  look  her  in  the 
face  ;  for  as  he  grew  older  and  wiser,  he  did  not  attach 
so  much  importance  to  so  trifling  an  affair.  But  when 
he  tried  to  catch  her  eye,  to  show  her  that  he  was 
ready  to  listen  to  anything  she  might  have  to  say, 
he  was  surprised  to  see  that  the  girl  purposely  turned 
her  head  in  the  other  direction,  as  if  she  were  as 
much  afraid  of  him  as  he  was  of  her.  This  discovery 
increased  his  confidence,  and,  as  he  was  disposed  to 
give  every  one  his  due,  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  had 
done  very  wrong  never  to  have  thanked  her  for  the 
pleasure  she  had  given  him,  whether  it  was  by  chance 
or  owing  to  her  superior  knowledge. 

He  made  up  his  mind  to  speak  to  her  the  first  time 


74  FADETTE 

he  saw  her,  and  when  the  opportunity  occurred,  he 
advanced  at  least  ten  steps  toward  her,  intending  to 
say  how  do  you  do,  and  have  a  little  chat. 

But  as  he  approached,  little  Fadette  was  very  much 
on  her  dignity,  and  when  she  finally  made  up  her  mind 
to  speak  to  him,  her  manner  was  so  disdainful  that  he 
was  quite  taken  aback,  and  did  not  dare  say  a  word  to 
her.  Landry  did  not  speak  to  her  again  that  year ; 
for,  from  that  day  on,  little  Fadette,  from  some  caprice 
or  other,  took  so  much  trouble  to  avoid  him  that  when 
she  saw  him  coming,  she  would  turn  aside  into  some 
field,  or  go  a  long  distance  out  of  her  way,  so  that  she 
might  not  meet  him.  Landry  thought  she  was  angry 
at  his  ingratitude,  but  he  could  not  bear  to  make  the 
first  advances.  Little  Fadette  was  not  like  other  chil- 
dren. She  was  not  naturally  ready  to  take  offence ; 
indeed,  she  was  not  enough  so,  for  she  loved  to  tease, 
and  her  tongue  was  so  sharp  that  she  was  very  quick 
at  repartee,  and  always  managed  to  have  the  last 
word.  She  had  never  been  known  to  sulk,  and 
people  even  accused  her  of  being  lacking  in  that 
proper  pride  which  a  girl  should  have  when  she  gets 
to  be  fifteen,  and  begins  to  think  herself  of  some  con- 
sequence. She  was  full  of  boyish  pranks,  and  often 
tried  to  tease  Sylvinet ;  she  would  bother  him  and  try 
to  provoke  him,  and  make  him  lose  his  temper,  when 
she  caught  him  in  a  brown  study,  for  he  still  indulged 
in  occasional  day  dreams.  She  always  ran  after  him 
part  of  the  way  when  she  met  him,  —  ridiculing  him 
for  being  a  twin,  and  tormenting  him  by  saying  that 


FADETTE  75 

Landry  did  not  love  him,  and  only  laughed  at  his 
woes.  So  poor  Sylvinet,  who  had  much  more  confi- 
dence in  her  powers  of  witchcraft  than  Landry  had, 
was  amazed  that  she  had  guessed  his  thoughts,  and 
hated  her  with  all  his  heart.  He  despjsed  her  and  her 
family,  and  he  avoided  the  hateful  Cricket  just  as  she 
avoided  Landry ;  for,  said  he,  sooner  or  later  she  will 
follow  her  mother's  example.  The  latter  had  been  a 
woman  of  bad  character,  and  had  finally  left  her  hus- 
band and  gone  off  as  a  camp-follower.  She  had  gone 
to  be  a  vivandiere  soon  after  the  Grasshopper  was 
born,  and  had  never  been  heard  of  since.  Her  hus- 
band had  died  of  grief  and  shame,  and  so  old  Mother 
Fadet  was  obliged  to  take  charge  of  the  two  children, 
who  fared  very  badly,  as  much  on  account  of  her 
stinginess  as  from  her  advanced  age,  which  rendered 
her  unfit  to  look  after  them  and  see  that  they  were 
properly  brought  up. 

For  all  these  reasons,  Landry,  though  he  was  not 
so  proud  as  Sylvinet,  felt  a  disgust  for  little  Fadette, 
and,  regretting  that  he  had  ever  had  anything  to  do 
with  her,  was  careful  not  to  let  anybody  know  of  it. 
He  did  not  even  tell  his  twin,  not  wishing  him  to 
know  how  anxious  he  had  been  on  his  account. 
Sylvinet,  on  the  other  hand,  said  nothing  about  little 
Fadette's  tormenting  him,  being  ashamed  to  tell  that 
she  had  found  out  how  jealous  he  was. 

But  time  did  not  stand  still.  Weeks  are  like 
months,  and  months  like  years  with  youngsters  the 
age  of  our  twins ;  so  far,  at  least,  as  concerns  the 


76  FADETTE 

changes  they  work  in  mind  and  body.  Landry  soon 
forgot  his  adventure,  and,  after  worrying  himself  a 
little  about  Fadette,  gave  no  more  thought  to  the 
affair  than  if  it  had  been  a  dream. 

Landry  had  been  at  La  Priche  about  ten  months, 
and  St.  John's  Day  —  the  period  when  his  engage- 
ment with  Father  Caillaud  would  expire  —  was  close 
at  hand.  That  honest  man  was  so  pleased  with  him 
that  he  had  determined  to  raise  his  wages,  sooner 
than  let  him  go.  And  Landry  asked  nothing  better 
than  to  remain  near  his  family,  and  renew  his  engage- 
ment with  the  La  Priche  folks,  to  whom  he  was  much 
attached.  Beside  that,  he  had  taken  a  fancy  to  a 
niece  of  Father  Caillaud's,  named  Madelon,  who  was 
a  fine  slip  of  a  girl.  She  was  a  year  older  than  he, 
and  still  looked  upon  him  as  a  child,  but  less  and  less 
so  every  day.  At  the  beginning  of  the  year,  she  had 
made  fun  of  him  because  he  was  ashamed  to  kiss  her 
in  their  dances  or  games,  but  latterly,  she  had  taken 
to  blushing  instead  of  teasing  him,  and  avoided  being 
alone  with  him  in  the  stable  or  hayloft.  Madelon 
was  pretty  well  off,  and  a  marriage  might  very  well 
have  been  arranged  between  them,  in  the  course  of 
time.  Both  families  were  much  esteemed  in  that  part 
of  the  country.  Finally,  Father  Caillaud,  noticing 
that  these  youngsters  were  fond  of  each  other's  soci- 
ety, but  yet  dreaded  to  be  left  alone  together,  told 
Father  Barbeau  that  they  would  make  a  fine  couple, 
and  that  there  would  be  no  harm  in  allowing  them 
to  become  better  acquainted. 


FADETTE  77 

So  a  week  before  St.  John's  Day,  it  was  agreed 
that  Landry  should  remain  at  La  Priche,  and  that 
Sylvinet  should  not  leave  home ;  for  he  was  a  very 
sensible  young  fellow  now,  and  as  Father  Barbeau 
had  had  intermittent  fever,  he  found  him  very  useful 
about  the  farm.  Sylvinet  dreaded  being  sent  far 
away,  and  this  dread  had  a  good  effect  on  him ;  for  he 
tried  more  and  more  to  overcome  his  excessive  fond- 
ness for  Landry,  or,  at  least,  not  to  allow  it  to  be  so 
evident.  So  peace  and  contentment  had  returned  to 
the  Twinnery,  though  the  twins  did  not  see  each 
other  oftener  than  once  or  twice  a  week. 

The  feast  of  St.  John  was  a  happy  day  for  them ; 
they  all  went  to  town  to  see  the  hiring  out  of  ser- 
vants for  the  city  and  country,  and  the  festival  which 
followed,  on  the  public  square.  Landry  danced  the 
bourree  more  than  once  with  Madelon,  and,  to  please 
him,  Sylvinet  tried  to  dance  too.  He  did  not  make 
out  very  well,  but  Madelon  was  very  good  to  him, 
and  when  she  was  dancing  opposite  him,  she  took  his 
hand  to  show  him  the  step.  So  Sylvinet,  only  too 
glad  to  be  with  his  brother,  promised  to  learn  to 
dance  well,  so  as  to  share  an  enjoyment  which  he  had 
hitherto  begrudged  Landry. 

He  was  not  particularly  jealous  of  Madeloji,  for 
Landry  did  not,  as  yet,  pay  her  very  devoted  atten- 
tion. Beside  that,  Madelon  nattered  Sylvinet  and 
encouraged  him.  She  was  quite  at  her  ease  with 
him,  and  those  who  knew  no  better,  would  have  sup- 
posed that  she  preferred  him  to  his  brother.  Landry 


78  FADETTE 

might  have  found  some  occasion  for  jealousy,  but  it 
was  not  in  his  nature  to  feel  jealous  of  anybody,  and 
perhaps,  in  spite  of  his  innocence,  he  had  a  slight 
suspicion  that  Madelon  only  behaved  thus  to  please 
him,  and  to  make  opportunities  of  seeing  him  more 
frequently. 

So  for  about  three  months  everything  went  on 
smoothly,  till  the  feast  of  St.  Andoche,  —  the  patron 
saint  of  La  Cosse,  —  which  is  about  the  last  of  Septem- 
ber. This  day  —  which  had  always  been  a  special 
holiday  for  the  twins,  because  there  were  games  and 
dancing  under  the  walnut  trees  in  the  village  —  this 
year  brought  them  new  and  unexpected  troubles. 

Father  Caillaud,  having  given  Landry  permission 
the  night  before  to  go  and  sleep  at  the  Twinnery,  so 
that  he  might  take  part  in  the  early  morning  festivi- 
ties, Landry  started  off  before  supper,  delighted  with 
the  idea  of  taking  his  twin  by  surprise ;  for  he  was 
not  expected  till  the  next  day.  The  days  were  be- 
ginning to  shorten,  and  it  grew  dark  early.  Landry 
was  afraid  of  nothing  in  broad  daylight,  but  it  would 
not  have  been  natural,  at  his  age  and  in  his  part  of  the 
country,  if  he  had  enjoyed  being  alone  on  the  roads 
after  nightfall,  especially  in  the  autumn,  which  is  the 
season  when  witches  and  will-o'-the-wisps  begin  to 
hold  their  revels,  on  account  of  the  fogs  which  help 
them  to  hide  their  naughty  pranks  and  misdemeanors. 
Landry,  who  was  used  to  going  about  alone  at  all 
hours,  driving  his  oxen  to  and  fro,  was  not  more  timid 
that  evening  than  any  other,  but  he  walked  fast,  and 


FADETTE  79 

sang  at  the  top  of  his  voice  ;  for,  as  everybody  knows, 
a  man's  singing  scares  away  evil-disposed  people  as 
well  as  prowling  beasts. 

When  he  reached  the  Roulettes  ford,  —  so  called 
on  account  of  the  round  pebbles  which  abound  there, 
—  he  turned  up  the  bottom  of  his  trousers,  for  fear 
that  the  water  might  be  above  his  ankles,  and  was 
careful  not  to  walk  straight  ahead  ;  for  the  ford  runs 
obliquely,  and  there  are  some  dangerous  holes  to  the 
right  and  left  of  it.  Landry  had  so  often  crossed  the 
ford  and  was  so  familiar  with  it,  that  he  could  not 
make  a  mistake.  Besides,  from  where  he  was  stand- 
ing, he  could  see,  through  the  trees,  which  were  half 
stripped  of  their  leaves,  the  little  light  which  came 
from  Mother  Fadet's  house,  and  by  keeping  his  eyes 
on  that  light,  and  walking  straight  towards  it,  there 
was  no  danger  of  making  a  misstep. 

It  was  so  dark  under  the  trees,  however,  that 
Landry  sounded  the  ford  with  his  stick  before  step- 
ping in.  He  was  surprised  to  find  that  the  water  was 
deeper  than  usual,  though  he  could  hear  the  noise 
from  the  sluice  gates,  which  had  been  open  fully  an 
hour.  However,  as  he  could  see  the  light  in  Fadette's 
window,  he  ventured  in,  but,  after  a  step  or  two,  he 
found  himself  in  water  up  to  his  knees,  and  drew 
back,  thinking  that  he  must  have  made  a  mistake. 
He  tried  it  a  little  higher  up,  and  a  little  lower  down, 
but  he  found  the  water  even  deeper  in  both  places. 
There  had  been  no  rain,  and  the  sluice  gates  were 
still  open,  for  he  could  hear  the  rushing  of  the  water. 
It  was  very  strange. 


CHAPTER  XII 

"  I  MUST  have  tried  to  cross  at  the  wrong  place," 
thought  Landry ;  "  for  all  of  a  sudden,  I  see  Fadette's 
candle  on  my  right,  and  it  should  be  on  my  left." 
He  went  up  the  road  as  far  as  the  Croix-aux-Lievres 
(the  Hare's  Cross)  and  walked  around  it  with  his 
eyes  shut,  so  as  to  put  himself  straight,  and,  after  tak- 
ing a  good  look  at  the  surrounding  trees  and  bushes, 
he  struck  the  right  road  and  returned  to  the  river. 
But  though  the  ford  seemed  all  right,  he  did  not  vent- 
ure to  go  forward  more  than  a  step  or  two,  for  all  at 
once  he  saw  just  behind  him  the  light  from  Fadette's 
house,  which  should  be  directly  in  front.  He  re- 
turned to  the  bank,  and  now  the  light  seemed  to  be 
in  its  usual  place.  He  tried  the  ford  again,  cutting 
across  in  another  direction,  and  this  time  the  water 
came  nearly  up  to  his  waist.  Nevertheless,  he  kept 
on,  thinking  that  he  must  have  stepped  into  a  hole, 
but  that  he  would  get  out  again  if  he  walked  straight 
toward  the  light. 

He  was  obliged  to  stop ;  for  the  hole  was  getting 

deeper  and  deeper,  and  the  water  was  now  up  to  his 

shoulders.    It  felt  very  cold,  and  he  paused  a  moment 

to  consider  whether  he  should  retrace  his  steps  ;  for 

80 


FADETTE  81 

the  light  seemed  to  have  changed  its  position,  and  he 
could  even  see  it  move,  flit  along,  leap  and  skip  from 
one  bank  to  the  other,  and  finally  he  saw  it  reflected 
in  the  water,  where  it  hovered  like  a  bird,  poising  it- 
self on  its  wings,  and  making  a  faint  sputtering  noise 
like  a  resinous  torch. 

By  this  time  Landry  was  really  very  much  fright- 
ened, and  he  had  heard  it  said  that  there  is  nothing 
more  dangerous  and  misleading  than  that  very  fire. 
He  had  been  told  that  it  took  delight  in  leading  astray 
those  who  looked  at  it,  and  would  lure  them  into  the 
very  deepest  part  of  the  water,  laughing  at  them,  after 
a  fashion  of  its  own,  and  mocking  at  its  victims  in 
their  despair. 

Landry  shut  his  eyes,  to  avoid  seeing  it,  and,  turning 
quickly  around,  he  waded  out  of  the  hole  at  all  risks, 
and  found  his  way  back  to  the  shore.  Then  he  threw 
himself  down  on  the  grass,  and  stared  at  the  will-o'- 
the-wisp,  which  continued  its  dance,  still  mocking  at 
him.  It  was  indeed  a  weird,  uncanny  sight.  Some- 
times it  darted  about  like  a  kingfisher,  and  sometimes 
it  vanished  altogether.  Again,  it  looked  as  big  as  a 
bull's  head,  and  then,  in  a  twinkling,  it  was  no  larger 
than  a  cat's  eye.  It  came  close  to  Landry,  then 
whirled  about  him  so  fast  that  it  dazzled  him,  and 
finally,  seeing  that  he  would  not  follow,  it  fluttered 
back  among  the  rushes,  and  lay  there  sulking,  as  if 
planning  some  new  insult. 

Landry  dared  not  stir,  for  he  could  not  rid  himself 
of  the  will-o'-the-wisp  by  retracing  his  steps.  Every- 


82  FADETTE 

body  knows  how  it  persists  in  pursuing  those  who  try 
to  run  away  from  it,  and  keeps  on  crossing  their  path, 
till  they  go  mad,  and  tumble  into  some  snare  or  other. 
He  sat  there  shivering  with  fear  and  cold,  when  he 
heard,  just  behind  him,  a  thin  little  voice,  singing : 

"  Fay,  fay,  my  little  fay, 
Take  thy  torch,  and  haste  away, 
Here's  my  cap,  and  here's  my  cloak, 
And  here's  a  mate  for  fairy  folk." 

And  the  next  moment,  little  Fadette,  who  was  gayly 
preparing  to  cross  the  stream,  apparently  not  the  least 
bit  afraid  or  astonished  at  the  sight  of  the  Jack-o'-lan- 
tern, stumbled  over  Landry,  who  was  sitting  on  the 
ground  in  the  darkness,  and  drew  back,  swearing  like 
a  boy,  and  that,  too,  not  as  if  it  were  the  first  time. 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Fanchon  ?  Don't  be  afraid. 
I  am  not  an  enemy  of  yours."  He  said  this  because 
he  was  almost  as  much  afraid  of  her  as  he  was  of  the 
will-o'-the-wisp.  He  had  heard  her  song,  and  knew 
well  enough  that  it  was  a  spell  to  charm  the  will-o'- 
the-wisp,  which  danced  and  spun  around  in  front  of 
her,  like  a  mad  thing,  as  if  in  token  of  welcome. 

"I  know  very  well,  my  pretty  twin,"  said  little 
Fadette,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  "  that  you  only 
speak  kindly  to  me  because  you  are  half  dead  of 
fright,  and  your  voice  is  as  shaky  as  my  grand- 
mother's. So,  faint  heart,  you  are  not  so  proud  at 
night  as  you  are  in  the  daytime,  and  I'll  wager  you 
dare  not  cross  the  stream  without  me." 

"  As  sure  as  I  live,"  said  Landry,  "  I  have  just  come 


FADETTE  83 

out  of  it,  and  I  narrowly  escaped  drowning.  Will 
you  venture  in,  Fadette?  Do  you  think  you  can  find 
the  ford?1' 

"Why  not,  I'd  like  to  know?  But  I  see  what  is 
worrying  you,"  answered  little  Fadette,  laughing. 
"  Come,  give  me  your  hand,  coward  !  The  will-o'-- 
the-wisp is  not  so  bad  as  you  think,  and  it  never 
hurts  those  who  are  not  afraid  of  it.  I  am  used  to 
it,  and  we  are  old  acquaintances." 

Then,  with  more  strength  than  Landry  had  given 
her  credit  for  possessing,  she  took  him  by  the  arm, 
and  pulled  him  toward  the  ford  at  a  run,  singing 
as  she  went, 

"  I'll  take  my  cape  and  haste  away, 
For  every  fairy  has  her  fay." 

Landry  felt  hardly  more  at  ease  in  the  society  of 
the  little  witch  than  in  that  of  the  will-o'-the-wisp. 
As,  however,  he  found  the  devil  less  alarming  in  the 
form  of  a  human  being  than  in  that  of  such  a  nicker- 
ing, treacherous  flame,  he  made  no  resistance,  and  was 
soon  quite  reassured  when  he  found  that  Fadette 
was  guiding  him  so  well  that  he  walked  dry-footed 
over  the  pebbles.  But  as  they  went  rather  rapidly, 
they  made  a  current  of  air  for  the  will-o'-the-wisp ; 
and  they  were  followed  up  quite  closely  by  this 
meteor,  as  our  schoolmaster  calls  it,  and  he  seems  to 
know  all  about  it,  and  says  that  we  have  no  reason 
to  be  afraid  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IT  may  be  that  Mother  Fadet  had  some  knowledge 
on  the  subject  too,  and  had  taught  her  granddaughter 
not  to  be  afraid  of  these  fires  which  are  only  seen  at 
night,  or  perhaps,  having  seen  so  many  of  them,  —  for 
they  are  very  frequent  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Roulettes  ford,  and  it  was  a  wonder  that  Landry  had 
never  before  seen  one  near  at  hand,  —  the  little  girl 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  they  did  not  originate 
from  an  evil  source,  and  would  do  her  no  harm. 
Feeling  Landry  tremble  from  head  to  foot  as  the  will- 
o'-the-wisp  approached  them,  she  said : 

"You  silly  boy,  that  fire  won't  burn,  and  if  you 
were  nimble  enough  to  catch  it,  you'd  find  that  it 
doesn't  even  leave  a  mark." 

"  So  much  the  worse,"  thought  Landry ;  "  I  know 
what  kind  of  fire  it  is  which  won't  burn.  It  isn't  the 
kind  of  fire  that  God  makes,  for  God's  fire  is  intended 
to  burn  and  give  heat." 

But  he  kept  his  thoughts  to  himself,  and  when  he 
stood  on  the  bank,  safe  and  sound,  he  had  a  great 
mind  to  leave  her  there,  and  hurry  off  to  the  Twin- 
nery.  But  he  was  not  ungrateful  at  heart,  and  so  did 
not  like  to  start  off  without  a  word  of  thanks. 
84 


FADETTE  85 

"  This  is  the  second  time  you  have  done  me  a  ser- 
vice, Fanchon  Fadet,"  said  he,  "  and  I  should  be  too 
mean  for  anything,  if  I  didn't  tell  you  that  I  shall 
never  forget  it  as  long  as  I  live.  I  was  sitting  there 
like  a  fool  when  you  found  me.  The  will-o'-the-wisp 
had  cast  a  spell  over  me,  and  I  could  not  move.  I 
should  never  have  crossed  the  river,  or  rather  I  should 
never  have  got  out  of  it." 

"Perhaps  you  could  have  crossed  with  neither 
trouble  nor  danger  if  you  had  not  been  so  foolish," 
answered  Fadette.  "  I  never  would  have  believed  that 
a  big  boy  like  you,  in  his  seventeenth  year,  and  who 
will  soon  have  a  beard  on  his  chin,  could  be  so  easily 
scared,  and  I  am  glad  I  saw  you." 

"And  why  are  you  glad,  Fanchon  Fadet?" 

"  Because  I  don't  like  you,"  said  she  disdainfully. 

"And  why  don't  you  like  me?" 

"  Because  I  have  a  very  poor  opinion  of  you ;  you 
and  your  twin  and  your  father  and  mother,  who  are 
proud  because  they  are  rich,  and  who  think  that  you 
are  doing  nothing  but  your  duty  when  you  do  them  a 
service.  They  have  taught  you  to  be  ungrateful,  Lan- 
dry,  and  that  is  the  worst  fault  a  man  can  have  except 
being  a  coward." 

Landry  was  much  humiliated  by  the  little  girl's  re- 
proaches, for  he  was  quite  aware  that  they  were  not 
altogether  undeserved ;  and  he  said  to  her,  "  If  I  am 
to  blame,  Fadette,  it  is  nobody's  fault  but  my  own. 
Neither  my  brother,  my  father,  my  mother,  nor  any 
of  my  friends  know  of  the  help  you  gave  me  once 


86  FADETTE 

before.  But  this  time  they  shall  know  of  it,  and  you 
shall  have  any  reward  you  please." 

"  Ah,  how  proud  you  are,"  answered  little  Fadette, 
u  because  you  think  that  you  can  get  even  with  me  by 
giving  me  presents.  You  think  that  I  am  like  my 
grandmother,  who  lets  people  abuse  and  insult  her  as 
much  as  they  please,  so  long  as  they  give  her  a  little 
money.  I  don't  want  any  of  your  presents,  let  me 
tell  you,  and  I  despise  anything  you  could  give  me,  be- 
cause you  have  never  had  the  decency  to  say  a  single 
word  of  thanks  or  kindness  to  me  since  that  time 
last  year  when  I  helped  you  out  of  a  great  trouble." 

"  I  am  to  blame,  I  acknowledge,  Fadette,"  said 
Landry,  who  could  not  help  feeling  astonished  to  hear 
her,  for  the  first  time,  talk  so  sensibly.  "  But  it  is 
also  a  little  your  fault.  You  didn't  need  to  use  much 
magic  to  find  my  brother  when  you  had,  no  doubt, 
just  seen  him,  while  I  was  talking  to  your  grand- 
mother. If  you  really  had  a  kind  heart,  —  you  who 
accuse  me  of  having  none  at  all,  —  instead  of  keeping 
me  waiting  when  I  was  so  anxious,  and  instead  of 
giving  me  directions  which  might  have  misled  me, 
you  would  have  told  me  at  once  '  Go  to  the  meadow 
and  you  will  find  him  there  on  the  bank  of  the  river.' 
That  would  have  been  easy  enough  for  you  to  do, 
instead  of  amusing  yourself  at  my  expense,  —  that  is 
the  reason  I  have  not  attached  so  much  value  to  the 
service  you  did  me." 

Little  Fadette,  who  was  usually  quick  at  repartee, 
stopped  to  think  a  moment.  Then  said  she : 


FADETTE  87 

"  It  is  very  plain  that  you  have  done  your  best  to 
banish  gratitude  from  your  heart,  and  to  make  your- 
self believe  that  you  owe  me  nothing  because  of  the 
reward  which  I  made  you  promise  me.  But — I  tell 
you  again  —  you  have  a  bad  heart,  since  it  has  not 
told  you  that  I  have  never  asked  you  for  anything, 
and  have  not  even  reproached  you  for  your  ingrati- 
tude." 

"  That's  true,  Fadette,"  said  Landry,  who  was  truth 
itself ;  "  I  have  done  wrong :  I  knew  it  and  was 
ashamed  of  it.  I  should  have  spoken  to  you.  I  did 
intend  to,  but  you  looked  at  me  so  savagely  that  I 
didn't  "know  how  to  go  about  it." 

"If  you  had  come  and  spoken  a  kind  word  to  me 
the  day  after  that  affair,  you  would  not  have  found 
me  savage ;  you  would  have  seen  at  once  that  I  did 
not  want  to  be  paid,  and  we  should  have  made 
friends  with  each  other.  Instead  of  that,  I  have  just 
now  a  very  poor  opinion  of  you,  and  I  ought  to  have 
left  you  to  fight  it  out  with  the  will-o'-the-wisp  as 
well  as  you  could.  Good-night,  Landry  of  the  Twin- 
nery ;  go  and  dry  your  clothes ;  go  and  tell  your 
parents,  i  If  it  had  not  been  for  that  ragged  little 
wretch  of  a  Cricket,  I  should  have  drunk  my  fill  of 
the  river  to-night,  as  sure  as  I  am  alive.' "  And  as 
she  spoke,  little  Fadette  turned  her  back  on  him 
and  walked  off  toward  her  house,  singing : 

"  Take  your  lesson  then,  and  go, 
My  pretty  twin,  Landry  Barbeau." 

By  this  time  Landry  felt  very  repentant,  not  that 


88  FADETTE 

he  was  disposed  to  be  friends  with  a  girl  who  seemed 
to  have  more  wit  than  kindliness,  and  whose  rude 
manners  did  not  attract  even  those  who  found  them 
amusing,  but  he  was  a  lad  of  good  principles,  and  he 
liked  to  have  a  clear  conscience.  He  ran  after  her 
and  caught  hold  of  her  cape. 

''See  here,  Fanchon  Fadet!"  said  he;  "we  must 
settle  this  affair  between  us  and  be  done  with  it. 
You  are  angry  with  me,  and  I  am  not  over  well 
pleased  with  myself.  You  must  tell  me  what  you 
want,  and  I  will  bring  it  to  you  not  later  than  to- 
morrow." 

"  I  never  want  to  see  you  again,"  answered  Fadette, 
harshly.  "No  matter  what  you  bring  me,  you  may 
depend  upon  it,  I  shall  throw  it  in  your  face." 

"  That's  a  hard  way  to  talk  to  a  person  who  is  try- 
ing to  make  amends  to  you.  If  you  don't  want  a 
present,  perhaps  there  is  something  I  can  do  for  you 
to  show  you  that  I  wish  you  no  harm.  Come,  tell 
me  what  I  can  do  to  satisfy  you ! " 

"  Then  you  are  not  going  to  ask  my  pardon,  and 
try  to  make  friends  with  me  ?  "  said  Fadette,  stand- 
ing still. 

"  Ask  your  pardon  ?  That's  pretty  hard,"  an- 
swered Landry,  who  did  not  fancy  the  notion  of 
apologizing  to  a  girl  who  was  not  in  the  habit  of 
receiving  the  consideration  to  which  her  age  en- 
titled her,  and  who  did  not  always  behave  herself 
with  the  greatest  propriety.  "  As  for  your  friendship, 
Fadette,  you  have  such  a  queer  disposition  that  I 


FADETTE  89 

shouldn't  trust  you  very  far.  So  ask  for  something 
which  I  can  give  you  outright,  and  shall  not  be 
obliged  to  take  back  again." 

"Well,"  said  Fadette,  in  a  clear,  cold  voice,  "it 
shall  be  as  you  wish,  Landry,  the  twin.  I  have 
offered  you  my  forgiveness  and  you  won't  accept  it. 
Now  I  claim  the  promise  you  made  me,  which  was, 
to  obey  my  orders  whenever  I  should  call  upon  you. 
That  will  be  to-morrow,  the  feast  of  St.  Andoche,  and 
this  is  what  I  want  you  to  do.  You  must  dance  the 
bourre"e  with  me  three  times  after  Mass,  twice  after 
Vespers,  and  twice  more  after  the  Angelus :  that 
makes  seven  times.  And  all  day  long,  from  the  time 
you  get  up  till  you  go  to  bed,  you  shall  not  dance  the 
bourrde  with  anybody  else  —  girl  or  married  woman. 
If  you  don't  do  it,  I  shall  know  that  you  have 
three  very  ugly  traits  in  your  disposition :  you  are  a 
coward,  you  are  ungrateful,  and  you  do  not  keep  your 
word.  Good-night ;  I'll  wait  for  you  at  the  church 
to-morrow,  to  open  the  dance." 

And  little  Fadette,  whom  Landry  had  followed  to 
her  house,  drew  the  bolt  and  went  in  so  quickly  that 
the  door  was  shut  and  bolted  before  the  twin  had  a 
chance  to  say  a  word  in  reply. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AT  first  Landry  thought  Fadette's  idea  so  amus- 
ing that  he  was  more  inclined  to  laugh  than  to  be 
annoyed. 

"  There  is  a  girl,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  who  is  more 
foolish  than  malicious,  and  more  disinterested  than 
one  would  suppose ;  for  it  won't  ruin  my  family  to 
give  her  her  reward."  But,  on  second  thoughts,  the 
payment  of  his  debt  seemed  more  difficult  than  he 
had  been  inclined  to  think  it  at  first.  Little  Fadette 
danced  very  well ;  he  had  seen  her  skipping  about 
the  fields  and  road  with  the  shepherd  lads,  and  she 
flew  about  like  a  little  demon,  so  quickly  that  her 
partner  could  hardly  keep  up  with  her.  But  she  was 
so  far  from  pretty  and  so  badly  dressed,  even  on 
Sundays,  that  no  boy  of  Landry's  age  would  ever  have 
thought  of  asking  her  to  dance,  —  especially  in  public. 
It  was  as  much  as  could  be  expected  if  the  swine- 
herds and  the  boys  who  had  not  yet  made  their  first 
communion  should  condescend  to  ask  her,  and  the 
country  belles  did  not  like  to  have  her  dance  in  the 
same  set  with  them.  So  Landry  felt  very  much  mor- 
tified at  having  engaged  himself  to  such  a  partner, 
and  when  he  recollected  that  he  had  asked  pretty 
90 


FADETTE  91 

Madelon  to  dance  at  least  three  bounces  with  him, 
he  wondered  how  she  would  take  the  affront  which 
he  should  be  obliged  to  offer  her,  by  failing  to  claim 
the  dances. 

As  he  was  cold  and  hungry,  and  was  still  afraid 
that  the  will-o'-the-wisp  might  follow  him,  he  hurried 
along,  not  thinking  much  about  anything,  and  never 
once  looking  behind  him.  As  soon  as  he  got  home, 
he  dried  his  clothes  and  told  his  parents  that  he  could 
not  find  the  ford,  on  account  of  the  darkness,  and  the 
trouble  he  had  had  in  getting  across  the  river.  But 
he  was  ashamed  to  tell  how  frightened  he  had  been, 
and  he  said  nothing  about  little  Fadette  or  the  will- 
o'-the-wisp.  He  went  to  bed,  saying  to  himself  that 
to-morrow  would  be  soon  enough  to  bother  himself 
about  the  consequences  of  this  unlucky  adventure. 
But,  try  as  he  would,  he  slept  very  badly.  He 
dreamed  more  than  fifty  times  that  he  saw  little 
Fadette  mounted  astride  of  the  goblin,  which  looked 
like  a  big  red  rooster,  and  which  held  in  one  claw 
its  horn  lantern  with  a  candle  in  it,  which  lighted  up 
the  whole  rush  field.  And  then  little  Fadette  was 
changed  into  a  cricket  as  big  as  a  goat,  and  shouted 
out  to  him,  in  a  voice  like  a  cricket,  a  song  which  he 
could  not  understand,  but  of  which  he  caught  now 
and  then  some  words  which  rhymed,  such  as,  "  fay, 
way,  cloak,  folk,"  etc.  His  head  was  splitting  with 
the  noise,  and  the  \vill-o'-the-wisp?s  light  was  so  vivid, 
and  flickered  so  much,  that  when  he  woke  up  his 
eyes  were  still  dazzled  and  saw  those  little  black,  red, 


92  FADETTE 

and  blue  balls  which  float  before  them  when  we  have 
been  looking  too  steadily  at  the  sun  or  moon. 

Landry  was  so  worn  out  with  his  bad  night,  that 
he  slept  all  through  Mass,  and  did  not  hear  one 
word  of  the  Curd's  sermon,  which  was  a  eulogy  on 
the  virtues  and  general  character  of  good  St.  Andoche. 
On  coming  out  of  church,  Landry  was  so  drowsy  that 
he  forgot  all  about  Fadette.  But  there  she  stood,  in 
front  of  the  porch,  next  to  pretty  Madelon,  who  had 
stationed  herself  there,  quite  confident  that  the  first 
invitation  would  be  for  her.  But  when  he  approached 
to  speak  to  her,  he  could  not  help  seeing  the  Cricket, 
who  stepped  forward  and  said  in  a  loud  voice  and 
with  unparalleled  impudence,  "  See  here,  Landry, 
you  asked  me  last  night  to  give  you  the  first  dance, 
and  I  depend  on  you  to  see  that  we  don't  miss  it! " 

Landry  turned  as  red  as  fire,  and  seeing  that  Made- 
Ion  colored  too,  with  astonishment  and  displeasure  at 
such  an  unheard-of  occurrence,  he  mustered  up  cour- 
age to  say  to  Fadette,  "  I  may  have  promised  to  give 
you  a  dance,  Cricket,  but  I  had  asked  some  one  else 
before  you,  and  your  turn  will  come  after  I  have  kept 
my  previous  engagement." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Fadette,  boldly.  u  Your  mem- 
ory fails  you,  Landry.  You  haven't  a  previous  en- 
gagement with  anybody,  for  I  claim  a  promise  you 
made  me  last  year,  and  which  you  renewed  only  last 
evening.  If  Madelon  wants  to  dance  with  you  to- 
day, here  is  your  twin,  who  is  so  like  you  that  he  can 
take  your  place.  One  is  as  good  as  the  other." 


FADETTE  93 

"The  Cricket  is  right,"  said  Madelon,  haughtily, 
taking  Sylvinet's  hand.  "  Since  you  have  an  engage- 
ment of  such  long  standing,  you  must  keep  it,  Landry, 
—  I  would  just  as  soon  dance  with  your  brother." 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  is  all  the  same  thing,"  said  Sylvinet, 
innocently.  "We  can  all  four  dance  together." 

Landry  had  to  let  it  pass,  for  he  did  not  want  to 
attract  people's  attention,  and  the  Cricket  began  to 
skip  about  with  such  pride  and  agility  that  no  bourre'e 
was  ever  danced  with  more  spirit  and  in  better  time. 
If  she  had  been  pretty  and  attractive,  it  would  have 
been  a  pleasure  to  look  at  her ;  for  she  danced  wonder- 
fully well,  and  there  was  not  a  pretty  girl  present  who 
would  not  have  been  glad  to  have  her  ease  and  light- 
ness. But  the  poor  Cricket  was  so  badly  dressed  that 
she  looked  ten  times  uglier  than  usual.  Landry  dared 
not  look  at  Madelon,  for  he  felt  deeply  mortified  at 
being  obliged  to  treat  her  as  he  had  done;  so  he 
watched  his  partner,  and  thought  her  even  uglier  than 
in  her  every-day  rags.  She  had  tried  to  deck  herself 
out  in  holiday  attire  and  the  result  was  absurd. 

She  wore  a  cap  which  had  grown  yellow  with  lying 
away,  and  instead  of  being  small  and  well  caught-up 
behind,  as  the  country  girls  wear  them  nowadays,  it 
had  two  great  ears  on  either  side  of  her  head,  and,  at 
the  back,  the  cape  falling  down  on  her  neck  made 
her  look  like  her  grandmother,  and  gave  her  a  head 
as  big  as  a  bushel  basket,  on  her  slender,  little  stick 
of  a  neck.  Her  coarse  woollen  petticoat  was  two 
hands-breadths  too  short,  and  as  she  had  grown  a 


9+  FADETTE 

good  deal  the  past  year,  her  thin,  sunburnt  arms  pro- 
truded from  her  sleeves  like  spider's  legs.  She  wore 
a  crimson  apron,  of  which  she  was  very  proud.  It 
had  been  her  mother's,  and  she  had  not  thought  to 
take  off  the  bib,  though  they  had  not  been  worn  by 
young  girls  these  ten  years  or  more. 

She  was  not  very  coquettish,  poor  girl ;  indeed,  she 
was  not  enough  so,  and  had  grown  up  like  a  boy, 
never  thinking  of  her  appearance,  and  caring  for 
nothing  but  fun  and  play.  She  looked  like  an  old 
woman  in  her  Sunday  clothes,  and  was  laughed  at 
for  her  shabby  get-up,  which  was  the  result  of  the 
grandmother's  stinginess  and  the  granddaughter's 
lack  of  taste,  and  not  of  poverty. 


CHAPTER   XV 

SYLVINET  thought  it  odd  that  his  twin  should  have 
taken  such  a  fancy  to  Fadette,  for  whom  his  own 
dislike  was  even  greater  than  Landry's  had  been. 
Landry  could  not  explain  matters,  and  felt  as  if  he 
should  sink  through  the  ground.  Madelon  was  very 
indignant,  and  in  spite  of  the  nimble  time  which 
Fadette  made  them  keep,  their  faces  were  as  gloomy 
as  if  they  had  been  at  a  funeral.  At  the  end  of  the 
first  dance,  Landry  slipped  away  to  try  to  hide  him- 
self in  his  orchard.  But  in  a  moment,  little  Fadette, 
escorted  by  the  Grasshopper,  —  who  was  more  quarrel- 
some and  noisy  than  ever,  because  he  had  a  peacock's 
feather  and  a  new  gilt  tassel  on  his  cap,  —  came  to 
hunt  him  up,  followed  by  a  troop  of  impish  little  girls 
—  younger  than  herself;  for  girls  of  her  own  age 
would  not  have  anything  to  do  with  her.  When 
Landry  saw  her  coming  with  all  this  crew,  who  were 
to  be  her  witnesses  in  case  of  a  refusal  to  go  with 
her,  he  gave  in  at  once,  and  led  her  out  under  the 
walnut  trees,  looking  about  for  a  corner  where  they 
could  dance  without  attracting  so  much  attention. 

Fortunately  for  him,  Madelon  and  Sylvinet  had 
gone  off  somewhere  else,  and  there  were  none  of  his 
95 


96  FADETTE 

neighbors  about ;  so  he  took  advantage  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  dance  his  third  dance  with  Fadette.  There 
were  none  but  strangers  near,  who  paid  very  little 
attention  to  them. 

As  soon  as  he  was  through  dancing,  he  ran  to  find 
Madelon  to  invite  her  to  go  out  under  the  trees  and 
eat  some  frumenty  with  him.  But  she  had  been 
dancing  with  other  young  men,  who  had  made  her 
promise  to  allow  them  to  treat  her,  and  she  refused, 
rather  haughtily.  Then  noticing  that  he  stood  in  a 
corner,  with  his  eyes  full  of  tears,  —  for  pride  and 
anger  had  made  her  prettier  than  ever,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  everybody  must  notice  it,  —  she  ate  very 
fast,  rose  from  the  table,  and  said  aloud : 

"There  goes  Vespers.  Whom  am  I  going  to  dance 
with  afterward  ? "  She  turned  toward  Landry,  expect- 
ing him  to  say  at  once,  "With  me!  "  But  before  he 
could  open  his  mouth,  other  young  men  presented 
themselves,  and  Madelon,  not  deigning  to  vouch- 
safe him  one  look  of  pity  or  reproach,  went  off  to 
Vespers  with  her  new  admirers. 

When  Vespers  was  over,  Madelon  started  off  with 
Pierre  Aubardeau,  followed  by  Jean  Aladenise  and 
Etienne  Alaphilippe,  and  danced  with  all  three,  one 
after  the  other ;  for  she  was  too  pretty  a  girl  to  lack 
partners,  especially  as  she  had  a  nice  little  fortune  of 
her  own. 

Landry  stood  looking  after  her  out  of  the  corners 
of  his  eyes,  and  little  Fadette  had  remained  in 
church  after  the  others  were  gone,  saying  some  long 


FADETTE  97 

prayers.  She  did  this  every  Sunday,  some  said  be- 
cause she  was  so  pious,  and  others,  because  she 
wished  to  disguise  her  dealings  with  the  devil. 

Landry  was  very  sorry  to  see  that  Madelon  did  not 
seem  at  all  concerned  about  him,  that  her  face  was 
rosy  with  enjoyment,  and  that  she  no  longer  appeared 
to  feel  the  affront  which  he  had  been  compelled  to 
offer  her.  He  had  not  thought  of  it  before,  but  it 
now  occurred  to  him  that  she  must  be  something  of 
a  coquette,  and  that,  at  any  rate,  she  could  not  care 
much  for  him,  since  she  managed  to  enjoy  herself 
so  well  without  him.  It  is  true  that  appearances 
were  against  him  ;  but  she  had  seen  how  distressed  he 
was  when  they  were  out  under  the  walnut  trees,  and 
she  might  have  known  that  there  must  be  something 
behind,  which  he  wanted  an  opportunity  to  explain  to 
her.  But  she  never  gave  him  a  thought,  and  was  as 
frisky  as  a  young  kid,  while  his  own  heart  was  burst- 
ing with  grief. 

After  she  had  finished  dancing  with  her  three  part- 
ners, Landry  went  up  to  her,  wishing  to  have  a  few 
words  with  her  in  private,  so  that  he  might  make 
some  attempt  to  clear  himself.  He  did  not  know  how 
he  should  manage  to  draw  her  aside, —  for  he  was 
still  too  young  to  be  at  his  ease  with  women,  —  and 
as  he  could  not  think  of  the  proper  thing  to  say,  he 
took  her  hand  to  lead  her  apart,  but  she  said  to  him, 
half  petulant  and  half  relenting : 

"  Well,  Landry,  have  you  come  to  ask  me  to  dance 
at  last?" 

H 


98  FADETTE 

"  Not  to  dance,"  said  he,  for  he  did  not  know  how 
to  act  a  part,  and  had  no  intention  of  breaking  his 
word ;  "  but  to  tell  you  something  which  you  cannot 
refuse  to  hear." 

"  Oh,  if  you  have  a  secret  to  tell  me,  Landry,  you  must 
keep  it  till  another  time,"  answered  Madelon,  draw- 
ing away  her  hand.  "To-day  is  a  day  for  dancing 
and  merrymaking.  I  am  not  tired  out  yet,  and  if  the 
Cricket  has  danced  you  down,  go  home,  and  go  to 
bed  if  you  want  to,  —  1  am  going  to  stay." 

Thereupon  she  accepted  the  invitation  of  Germain 
Audoux,  who  came  up  to  ask  her  to  dance.  And  as 
she  turned  her  back,  Landry  heard  Germain  Audoux 
say  to  her,  speaking  of  him  : 

"  That  boy  seems  to  think  that  this  dance  belongs 
to  him." 

"  Maybe  he  does,"  said  Madelon,  tossing  her  head ; 
"but  I  shan't  give  it  to  any  such  fellow  as  he  is." 

Landry  was  much  shocked  at  this  expression,  and 
lingered  near  to  watch  Madelon's  behavior,  which, 
while  not  absolutely  rude,  was  so  proud  and  haughty 
that  it  made  him  angry.  And  when  she  came  near 
him  again,  and  he  looked  at  her  rather  disdainfully, 
she  said  to  him,  out  of  bravado : 

"Well,  Landry,  so  you  can't  find  a  partner  to-day? 
As  sure  as  I  live,  you  will  be  obliged  to  go  back  to 
the  Cricket." 

"  I'll  go  back  to  her  gladly  enough,"  answered 
Landry ;  "  for  if  she  isn't  the  prettiest  girl  here,  she 
is  the  best  dancer." 


FADETTE  99 

Then  off  he  went  to  hunt  through  the  church  for 
little  Fadette,  and  brought  her  back  to  the  dance, 
right  opposite  to  Madelon,  and  danced  two  bourrdes 
with  her  without  stopping.  It  was  worth  something 
to  see  how  proud  and  happy  the  Cricket  was.  She 
did  not  attempt  to  conceal  her  delight ;  snapped  her 
merry  black  eyes,  and  tossed  her  head  with  its  great 
cap,  like  a  chicken  with  a  topknot. 

But,  unfortunately,  her  triumph  gave  umbrage  to  five 
or  six  little  ragamuffins  who  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  dancing  with  her.  They  had  never  looked  down 
on  her,  but  had  always  admired  her  dancing,  and  now 
when  they  found  that  they  couldn't  get  near  her,  they 
fell  to  criticising  her,  calling  her  proud,  and  whisper- 
ing so  that  she  could  hear  them  : 

"Just  look  at  the  Cricket!  She  thinks  she  can 
charm  Landry  Barbeau!"  Cricket,  Grasshopper, 
singed  cat,  little  runt,  will-o'-the-wisp,  and  many 
other  nicknames  popular  among  country  people. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AND  then  when  little  Fadette  was  dancing  near 
them,  they  would  pull  her  sleeve  or  put  out  a  foot  to 
trip  her  up,  and  there  were  some  of  them  —  the 
youngest  ones,  of  course,  and  the  most  unmannerly 
—  who  struck  at  the  ears  of  her  cap,  and  tilted  it  first 
to  one  side  and  then  to  the  other,  shouting,  "  Three 
cheers  for  the  big  helmet!  Mother  Fadet's  big 
helmet ! " 

The  poor  Cricket  struck  out  at  them  five  or  six 
times,  aiming  her  blows  to  the  right  and  left,  but 
that  only  served  to  draw  attention  to  herself,  and  the 
neighbors  began  to  say : 

"  Just  look  at  our  Cricket !  What  luck  she's  hav- 
ing to-day  !  Landry  Barbeau  dances  with  her  all  the 
time.  She  dances  well,  to  be  sure,  but  she  is  put- 
ting on  fine  lady  airs  and  strutting  about  like  a 
magpie." 

Some  of  them  said  to  Landry : 

"  Poor  Landry  !  Has  she  bewitched  you  so  that 
you  can't  look  at  anybody  else?  Or  maybe  she  is 
going  to  teach  you  the  black  art,  and  we'll  soon  see 
you  driving  the  wolves  to  pasture." 

Landry  was  mortified,  but  Sylvinet,  who  admired 
his  brother  beyond  anything  in  the  world,  was  still 

100 


FADETTE  101 

more  ashamed,  when  he  saw  him  make  a  laughing- 
stock of  himself  before  so  many  people,  many  of 
them  strangers,  who  now  began  to  take  an  interest  in 
the  affair,  asking  questions  and  saying : 

"  That's  a  fine-looking  boy,  but  it  is  queer  that  he 
should  take  up  with  the  ugliest  girl  here." 

Madelon  came  up  to  listen  triumphantly  to  these 
jeers,  and  took  part  in  them  with  great  relish.  She 
said: 

"  What  can  you  expect  ?  Landry  is  nothing  but  a 
child,  and  boys  of  his  age  don't  care  whether  a  girl 
has  a  goat's  head  or  a  human  face,  as  long  as  they 
can  get  her  to  talk  to  them." 

Sylvinet  took  Landry  by  the  arm,  and  said  to  him 
in  a  low  voice  : 

"Come,  brother,  let's  go  home!  or  we'll  have  to 
take  some  notice  of  them,  for  they  are  making  fun  of 
you,  and  it  reflects  on  you  when  they  insult  little 
Fadette.  I  can't  imagine  what  put  it  into  your  head 
to  dance  with  her  five  or  six  times  running.  It 
seems  as  if  you  were  trying  to  make  yourself  ridicu- 
lous. Do  stop  amusing  yourself  after  such  a  fashion, 
I  beg  of  you.  It's  all  right  for  her  to  expose  herself 
to  being  laughed  at  by  the  crowd  if  she  chooses  to 
do  it ;  she  likes  that  sort  of  thing :  it  just  suits  her. 
But  it  doesn't  suit  us.  Let's  go.  We'll  come  back 
after  the  Angelus,  and  you  can  dance  with  Madelon, 
who  is  a  very  well  behaved  girl.  I've  always  told 
you  that  you  were  too  fond  of  dancing,  and  that 
your  love  for  it  will  make  a  fool  of  you  yet." 


102  FADETTE 

Landry  followed  him  a  step  or  two,  but  he  turned 
back  when  he  heard  a  great  clatter  of  voices,  and 
saw  that  Madelon  and  the  other  girls  had  given 
little  Fadette  over  to  the  rough  horse-play  of  their 
sweethearts,  and  that  the  little  vagabonds  —  encour- 
aged by  the  laughter  which  greeted  their  efforts  — 
had  just  knocked  off  her  cap.  Her  long  black  hair 
streamed  down  her  back  and  she  was  defending  her- 
self frantically,  in  a  perfect  frenzy  of  indignation. 
For  once  in  her  lifetime  she  had  done  nothing  to 
provoke  such  ill-treatment.  She  was  crying  with 
rage,  and  could  not  recover  her  cap,  which  a  naughty 
little  rascal  had  carried  off  on  the  end  of  a  stick. 

Landry  was  disgusted  with  the  whole  affair  and  — 
angry  at  seeing  her  so  unjustly  treated  —  he  rescued 
the  cap,  and  gave  the  boy  a  sound  thrashing  with 
the  stick.  Then  he  turned  his  attention  to  the 
others,  who  scattered  in  every  direction  as  soon  as 
they  saw  him  coming,  and,  taking  the  poor  Cricket  by 
the  hand,  he  gave  her  back  her  cap. 

Landry's  energetic  proceedings,  and  the  terror  of 
the  little  ragamuffins,  greatly  amused  the  spectators. 
They  applauded  Landry,  but  as  he  was  not  in  Made- 
Ion's  good  graces,  some  of  the  boys  of  his  own  age, 
and  even  older,  were  rather  disposed  to  laugh  at  his 
expense. 

Landry  no  longer  felt  ashamed.  He  was  con- 
scious of  his  own  strength  and  courage,  and  a  certain 
feeling  of  manliness  assured  him  that  he  was  doing 
his  duty  in  defending  any  woman  —  pretty  or  ugly, 


"Quick,  put  on  your  hat,  Fadette,  and  let's  dance. 


FADETTE  103 

big  or  little  —  whom  he  had  taken  for  a  partner  in 
the  presence  of  his  friends  and  neighbors.  He 
noticed  that  Madelon's  party  was  inclined  to  make 
fun  of  him,  so  he  walked  straight  up  to  the  Aladenises 
and  the  Alaphilippes,  and  said  to  them : 

"  Well,  fellows,  what  have  you  got  to  say  to  me  ? 
If  I  see  fit  to  pay  attention  to  that  girl,  what  business 
is  it  of  yours?  If  you  don't  like  it,  why  don't  you 
speak  out?  Can't  you  see  me  standing  here  before 
you?  Somebody  said  I  was  only  a  child,  but  there 
isn't  a  man  here,  or  even  a  big  boy,  who  would  dare 
say  it  to  my  face.  Come,  speak  up !  We'll  see  if 
anybody  is  going  to  interfere  with  the  girl  wlio  has 
been  dancing  with  a  child  like  me ! " 

Sylvinet  stood  by  his  brother's  side,  and  though  he 
had  opposed  getting  into  this  quarrel,  he  was  ready 
to  back  him  up.  There  were  four  or  five  of  the 
young  men  who  were  a  head  taller  than  the  twins, 
but  when  they  saw  them  so  determined,  and  were 
themselves  of  the  opinion  that  it  was  not  worth 
while  to  fight  about  so  small  a  matter,  they  did  not 
say  a  word,  but  exchanged  glances  as  if  asking  who 
wanted  to  have  it  out  with  Landry.  No  one  came 
forward,  and  Landry,  who  still  held  Fadette's  hand, 
said  to  her: 

"  Quick,  —  put  on  your  cap,  Fadette,  and  let's  dance, 
and  we'll  see  if  anybody  will  try  to  take  it  off." 

"  No,"  said  little  Fadette,  drying  her  tears ;  "  I  have 
danced  enough  for  to-day,  and  I  will  not  hold  you  to 
the  rest." 


1(H  FADETTE 

"  No,  no ;  we  must  dance  again,"  said  Landry,  who 
was  all  afire  with  pride  and  courage.  "  Nobody 
shall  say  that  you  can't  dance  with  me  without  be- 
ing insulted." 

So  he  made  her  dance  again,  and  nobody  said  a 
word  to  him,  or  even  looked  askance.  Madelon  and 
her  admirers  had  taken  themselves  off  to  dance  some- 
where else.  After  the  bounce  was  over,  little  Fadette 
said  to  Landry  in  a  low  tone : 

"  Now  that's  enough,  Landry.  I  am  satisfied  with 
you,  and  I  let  you  off  your  promise.  I  am  going 
home.  Dance  with  whom  you  please  this  evening." 

And  off  she  ran  after  her  brother,  who  had  been 
fighting  with  the  other  children,  and  was  gone  before 
Landry  saw  which  way  she  took. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

LANDRY  went  home  to  supper  with  his  brother,  and 
as  Sylvinet  was  very  much  disturbed  over  the  morn- 
ing's occurrences,  he  told  him  how  he  had  met  the 
will-o'-the-wisp  the  night  before,  and  how  little  Fa- 
dette  had  helped  him  out  of  his  difficulty,  either  by 
her  courage  or  by  some  little  piece  of  witchcraft,  and 
had  asked,  as  her  reward,  that  he  should  dance  with 
her  seven  times  at  the  feast  of  St.  Andoche. 

He  did  not  tell  him  the  rest,  not  wishing  him  to 
know  how  he  had  feared  to  find  him  drowned  in  the 
river  the  year  before.  In  this  he  showed  his  good 
sense ;  for  the  bad  notions  children  take  into  their 
heads  are  very  apt  to  return,  if  people  take  notice  of 
them,  or  talk  to  them  on  the  subject.  Sylvinet 
thought  that  his  brother  had  done  right  to  keep  his 
word,  and  told  him  that  he  respected  him  all  the 
more  on  account  of  the  annoyance  it  had  cost  him. 
But  while  realizing  the  danger  Landry  had  been  in, 
he  did  not  feel  grateful  to  little  Fadette.  He  disliked 
her  so  much  that  he  would  not  believe  that  her  pres- 
ence there  was  accidental,  nor  that  her  assistance  had 
been  given  from  kindly  motives. 

"  She  must  have  conjured  up  the  will-o'-the-wisp  to 
confuse  you  and  get  you  drowned.  But  God  would 
105 


106  FADETTE 

not  permit  it,  because  you  are  not,  and  have  never 
been,  in  a  state  of  mortal  sin.  Then  that  wicked 
Cricket,  taking  advantage  of  your  gratitude  and  kind- 
ness of  heart,  got  you  to  make  her  a  promise  which 
she  knew  would  be  very  annoying  and  injurious  to 
you.  She  is  terribly  malicious,  that  girl.  All  witches 
love  to  do  all  the  mischief  they  can,  and  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  a  good  witch.  She  knew  well  enough 
that  she  would  get  you  into  trouble  with  Madelon  and 
all  the  most  respectable  of  your  acquaintances.  She 
tried  to  get  you  into  a  fight,  too.  And  if  the  good 
Lord  had  not  protected  you  against  her  for  the  second 
time,  you  might  have  got  into  some  very  serious  dis- 
pute and  have  been  hurt." 

Landry,  who  had  a  habit  of  seeing  everything 
through  his  brother's  eyes,  thought  that  he  was 
probably  right,  and  did  not  try  to  defend  Fadette. 
They  talked  about  the  will-o'-the-wisp,  which  Sylvi- 
net  had  never  seen,  and  which  he  was  very  curious 
to  hear  about,  though  he  had  not  the  least  desire  to 
see  it.  But  they  did  not  dare  speak  of  it  to  their 
mother,  for  she  was  alarmed  at  the  very  thought  of 
it ;  nor  to  their  father,  because  he  laughed  at  it,  and 
had  seen  it  more  than  twenty  times,  without  paying 
any  attention  to  it.  The  dancing  was  kept  up  till 
very  late,  but  Landry,  who  was  very  low-spirited  on 
account  of  his  falling  out  with  Madelon,  would  not 
take  advantage  of  the  freedom  which  Fadette  had 
allowed  him,  and  went  off  with  his  brother  to  bring 
the  cattle  home  from  pasture.  And  as  he  was  half- 


FADETTE  107 

way  back  to  La  Priche,  and  had  a  headache,  he  bade 
his  brother  good-night  at  the  end  of  the  rush  field. 
Sylvinet  would  not  let  him  cross  the  Roulettes  ford, 
for  fear  that  the  will-o'-the-wisp  or  the  Cricket  might 
play  him  some  ill  turn.  He  made  him  promise  to 
take  the  longest  way,  and  to  cross  the  foot-bridge 
by  the  big  mill.  Landry  did  as  his  brother  told 
him,  and  instead  of  crossing  the  rush  field,  he  took 
the  road  which  runs  at  the  foot  of  Chaumois  Hill. 

He  did  not  feel  at  all  timid,  for  the  sounds  of  merry- 
making were  still  in  the  air.  He  could  catch  the 
faint,  distant  notes  of  the  bagpipes,  and  the  shouts  of 
the  dancers  at  the  feast  of  St.  Andoche,  and  he  well 
knew  that  evil  spirits  do  not  play  their  pranks  till 
everybody  in  the  neighborhood  is  asleep.  When  he 
reached  the  foot  of  the  hill,  he  heard  somebody  sob- 
bing and  crying  beside  the  road,  and  thought  at 
first  that  it  was  a  curlew.  But  as  he  drew  near,  it 
sounded  like  a  human  voice,  and  as  his  heart  never 
failed  him  when  he  had  to  do  with  a  fellow-being, 
especially  if  in  need  of  assistance,  he  leaped  down 
into  the  hollow  beside  the  road,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation.  But  the  sobs  ceased  as  he  approached. 

"Who  is  crying  here?"  asked  he,  in  a  loud  voice. 

No  answer. 

"  Is  anybody  ill  ?  "  and  as  there  was  still  no  reply, 
he  was  about  to  go  away,  when  he  thought  he  would 
take  a  look  among  the  stones  and  brambles  which 
obstructed  the  place,  and  he  soon  saw  by  the  light  of 
the  moon,  which  was  just  rising,  some  one  lying  on 


108  FADETTE 

the  ground,  at  full  length,  face  downward  and  as 
motionless  as  a  dead  body.  He  could  not  tell 
whether  the  person  was  really  dead,  or  whether  he 
had  thrown  himself  down  there  in  great  distress,  and 
would  not  stir  for  fear  of  being  seen. 

Landry  had  never  seen  or  touched  a  corpse,  and 
was  quite  overcome  at  the  notion  that  this  might  be 
one  ;  but  he  controlled  his  fears  because  he  knew  that 
it  was  his  duty  to  help  his  neighbor,  and  walked  reso- 
lutely up  to  take  the  hand  of  the  prostrate  figure, 
which  half  rose  as  soon  as  it  became  evident  that 
disguise  was  no  longer  possible,  and  Landry  recog- 
nized little  Fadette. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

AT  first  Landry  was  annoyed  to  find  little  Fadette 
again  in  his  way,  but  as  she  appeared  to  be  in  trouble, 
he  felt  sorry  for  her.  This  is  the  conversation  which 
ensued  between  them. 

"What,  Cricket!  Was  that  you  crying  like  that? 
Has  anybody  hurt  you,  or  run  after  you,  that  you 
have  hidden  yourself  here  to  cry  ?  " 

"  No,  Landry ;  nobody  has  bothered  me  since  you 
defended  me  so  bravely,  and  besides  that,  I  am  not 
afraid  of  anybody.  I  hid  myself  to  cry,  that's  all ;  for 
there's  nothing  so  silly  as  to  let  other  people  see  you 
when  you  are  in  trouble.1' 

"  But  why  are  you  in  such  great  trouble  ?  Is  it  be- 
cause they  were  so  rude  to  you  to-day?  It  was  partly 
your  own  fault ;  but  you  must  cheer  up,  and  never 
expose  yourself  to  such  treatment  again." 

"Why  do  you  say  it  was  my  fault,  Landry?  Was 
it  an  insult  for  me  to  want  to  dance  with  you,  and 
am  I  the  only  girl  who  has  no  right  to  enjoy  herself 
as  other  girls  do  ? " 

"  It  isn't  that,  Fadette ;  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with 
you  for  wanting  to  dance  with  me.  I  did  as  you 
wished,  and  treated  you  very  well.  Your  wrong- 
109 


110  FADETTE 

doing  dates  farther  back  than  yesterday,  and  you 
have  not  hurt  me  but  yourself,  as  you  ought  to  know." 

"Well,  Landry,  as  true  as  I  love  God,  I  don't 
know  what  I  have  done.  I  have  never  given  myself 
a  thought,  and  if  I  reproach  myself  for  anything,  it 
is  that  I  have,  unintentionally,  caused  you  so  much 
annoyance." 

"  Don't  say  that,  Fadette  ;  I  have  no  complaint  to 
make.  Let's  talk  about  yourself,  and  since  you  don't 
seem  to  be  conscious  of  your  faults,  will  you  let  me 
tell  them  to  you  in  all  good  faith  and  kindliness  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Landry,  I  will ;  and  I  shall  consider  it  the 
best  reward  or  the  worst  punishment  you  could  give 
me  for  the  good  or  evil  I  have  done  you." 

"  Well,  Fanchon  Fadet,  since  you  talk  so  sensibly, 
and  seem,  for  the  first  time  in  your  life,  to  be  gentle 
and  tractable,  I  will  tell  you  why  you  are  not  treated 
with  the  respect  to  which  a  girl  of  sixteen  is  entitled. 
It  is  because  your  appearance  and  manners  are  more 
like  a  boy's  than  a  girl's.  It  is  because  you  do  not 
pay  any  attention  to  your  looks.  In  the  first  place, 
you  are  not  neat  and  clean,  and  your  language  is  not 
what  it  should  be.  You  know  the  children  have  a  far 
worse  name  for  you  than  Cricket.  They  often  call 
you  tomboy.  Now,  do  you  think  it  is  nice  to  look 
more  like  a  boy  than  a  girl,  when  you  are  sixteen 
years  old?  You  climb  trees  like  a  regular  squirrel, 
and  when  you  jump  on  a  mare,  without  saddle  or 
bridle,  you  go  off  at  a  gallop,  as  if  the  devil  were 
after  you.  It  is  all  right  to  be  strong  and  active, 


FADETTE  111 

and  not  to  be  afraid  of  anything,  and  it  is  a  natu- 
ral advantage  for  a  man.  But  for  a  woman,  there 
is  such  a  thing  as  going  too  far,  and  you  act  as  if  you 
wanted  to  attract  attention.  So  people  notice  you, 
make  fun  of  you,  and  shout  after  you  as  if  you  were  a 
wolf.  You  have  a  sharp  tongue,  and  you  give  them 
answers  which  are  very  amusing  to  those  to  whom 
they  are  not  addressed.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  be 
cleverer  than  other  people,  but  if  you  show  it  too 
plainly,  you  are  sure  to  make  enemies.  You  are  very 
inquisitive,  and  when  you  find  out  other  people's 
secrets,  you  cast  them  in  their  faces  regardless  of 
their  feelings,  if  ever  they  happen  to  offend  you. 
This  makes  them  fear  you,  and  people  always  hate 
those  whom  they  fear.  They  give  you  back  worse 
than  they  get.  And  lastly,  whether  you  are  a  witch 
or  not,  —  and  I  do  think  that  you  know  more  than 
you  ought  about  such  things,  though  I  hope  you  have 
no  dealings  with  the  evil  one,  —  you  try  to  make  peo- 
ple believe  that  you  are  one,  so  as  to  frighten  those 
who  offend  you.  All  this  gives  you  a  bad  name. 
Those  are  your  faults,  Fanchon  Fadet,  and  it  is  be- 
cause of  those  faults  that  nobody  likes  you. 

"Just  think  it  over  and  you  will  see  that  if  you 
would  try  and  behave  a  little  more  like  other  people, 
those  things  in  which  you  excel  would  be  better 
appreciated." 

"  Thank  you,  Landry,"  answered  little  Fadette,  very 
gravely,  after  listening  attentively  to  his  lecture. 
"  You  have  said  almost  the  same  things  to  me  which 


112  FADETTE 

other  people  tell  me,  but  you  have  done  it  kindly  and 
considerately,  which  is  more  than  the  others  do.  But 
now,  will  you  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say,  and  sit 
down  beside  me  for  a  few  minutes?" 

"It  is  not  a  very  pleasant  place,"  said  Landry,  who 
was  not  anxious  to  stay  there  with  her,  and  who  could 
not  help  thinking  of  the  evil  spells  which  she  was  said 
to  cast  over  those  who  were  not  on  their  guard. 

"  You  think  it  is  not  a  pleasant  place,  because  you 
rich  people  are  hard  to  please.  You  must  have  soft 
grass  to  sit  on  out  of  doors,  and  you  can  choose  the 
prettiest  and  shadiest  places  in  your  meadows  and 
gardens.  But  those  who  have  nothing,  do  not  ask 
so  much  of  our  good  Lord,  and  are  glad  to  lay  their 
heads  on  the  first  stone  they  come  across.  Thorns 
don't  hurt  their  feet,  and  everything  seems  lovely  to 
them  in  heaven  or  earth,  just  wherever  they  may 
happen  to  be.  No  place  is  ugly,  Landry,  to  those 
who  know  how  good  everything  is  which  God  has 
made.  Without  being  a  witch,  I  know  the  use  of  the 
least  little  weed  which  we  tread  under  foot ;  and  as  I 
know  what  they  are  good  for,  I  examine  them,  and 
don't  despise  either  their  odor  or  their  looks.  Now 
I  tell  you  this,  Landry,  so  that  I  may  draw  your  at- 
tention to  something  else,  which  concerns  human 
creatures'  souls,  as  well  as  to  the  garden  flowers  and 
roadside  weeds.  What  I  mean  to  say  is  that  we  are 
too  apt  to  despise  what  seems  to  us  neither  good 
nor  beautiful,  and  by  that  means  we  lose  a  great  deal 
that  is  useful  and  salutary." 


FADETTE  113 

"  I  don't  understand  exactly  what  you  are  talking 
about,"  said  Landry,  seating  himself  beside  her ;  and 
for  a  moment  they  were  silent,  for  Fadette's  mind  was 
busy  with  ideas  beyond  Landry's  comprehension,  and 
as  for  him,  though  his  head  felt  rather  confused,  he 
could  not  help  listening  with  pleasure  to  the  girl,  for 
never  had  he  heard  a  voice  so  soft,  or  words  so  well 
chosen  as  Fadette's  at  that  moment. 

"  Listen,  Landry,"  said  she ;  "  I  am  more  to  be  pitied 
than  blamed,  and  if  I  have  injured  myself,  at  least  I 
have  never  done  any  serious  harm  to  anybody  else, 
and  if  people  were  fair  and  reasonable  in  their  judg- 
ments, they  would  pay  greater  heed  to  my  good  heart 
than  to  my  ugly  face  and  my  shabby  clothes.  Just 
think  a  minute  —  or  let  me  tell  you  if  you  do  not 
already  know  —  what  my  life  has  been  ever  since  I 
came  into  the  world!  I  will  say  nothing  against  my 
poor  mother,  whom  everybody  blames  and  abuses, 
though  she  is  not  here  to  defend  herself,  and  though  I 
can't  do  it  myself,  for  I  don't  know  just  what  it  was  that 
she  did,  nor  what  drove  her  to  it.  Well,  the  world  is 
so  wicked  that  my  mother  had  hardly  abandoned  me, 
and  I  had  not  yet  done  crying  for  her,  before  the 
other  children,  whenever  they  got  the  least  little  bit 
angry  with  me,  —  a  quarrel  over  a  game,  or  any  trifle, 
which  they  would  never  have  noticed  in  anybody  else, 
—  would  blame  me  for  my  mother's  sins,  and  try  to 
make  me  ashamed  of  her.  Perhaps,  in  my  place,  a 
sensible  girl  would,  as  you  say,  have  kept  silent,  not 
thinking  it  prudent  to  defend  her  mother,  but  would 


114  FADETTE 

have  let  them  abuse  her  to  save  herself.  But,  you 
see,  I  couldn't  do  that.  It  was  of  no  use  to  try.  My 
mother  was  my  mother,  and  whatever  she  may  be, 
whether  I  am  ever  to  see  her  again  or  not,  I  shall  al- 
ways love  her  with  all  my  heart.  So  when  they  call 
me  the  child  of  a  camp-follower  or  a  vivandiere,  I  fly 
into  a  rage,  not  on  my  own  account,  —  for  I  know  well 
enough  that  it  cannot  hurt  me,  as  it  is  not  my  fault, 
—  but  for  the  sake  of  that  poor,  dear  woman  whom 
it  is  my  duty  to  defend.  And  as  I  do  not  know  how 
to  defend  her,  I  avenge  her  by  telling  other  people 
the  truths  which  they  deserve  to  hear,  and  by  show- 
ing them  that  they  are  no  better  than  the  woman  at 
whom  they  cast  a  stone.  So  they  call  me  inquisitive 
and  impertinent  because  I  find  out  their  secrets,  and 
let  them  be  known.  It  is  true  that  the  good  Lord 
made  me  inquisitive,  if  it  is  what  you  call  inquisitive 
to  want  to  know  all  sorts  of  hidden  things.  But  if 
they  had  treated  me  decently,  I  should  not  have  been 
driven  to  gratify  my  curiosity  at  my  neighbors'  ex- 
pense. I  should  have  contented  myself  with  learning 
those  secrets  which  I  get  from  my  grandmother, 
about  curing  human  ailments,  and  all  about  flowers, 
herbs,  stones,  insects,  —  all  the  secrets  of  nature ;  — 
there  would  have  been  enough  of  them  to  occupy  and 
amuse  me.  I  am  so  fond  of  roaming  about  and  ex- 
amining into  things.  I  should  not  have  minded  be- 
ing alone,  for  I  should  never  have  been  lonely ;  my 
greatest  pleasure  is  to  haunt  unfrequented  places  and 
sit  there  and  dream  about  fifty  things  which  I  never 


FADETTE  115 

hear  talked  about  by  people  who  think  themselves 
very  wise  and  well  informed.  If  I  have  meddled  in 
my  neighbors'  affairs,  it  was  only  because  I  wanted 
to  be  of  service  to  them,  with  the  little  bits  of  knowl- 
edge which  I  have  acquired  and  by  which  my  grand- 
mother often  profits,  without  saying  anything  about 
it.  Well,  instead  of  being  thanked  kindly  by  all  the 
children  of  my  own  age  whose  wounds  and  illnesses 
I  had  healed,  and  to  whom  I  had  taught  my  remedies 
without  asking  for  any  reward,  I  was  accused  of  be- 
ing a  witch,  and  those  who  were  glad  enough  to  come 
and  ask  me  for  anything  "when  they  needed  me,  after- 
wards seized  the  first  opportunity  to  be  rude  to  me. 

"This  made  me  furious,  and  I  could  easily  have 
revenged  myself  on  them ;  for  if  I  know  things  that 
are  beneficial,  I  also  know  many  which  are  injurious. 
However,  I  never  made  any  use  of  them  ;  I  don't  know 
what  it  is  to  bear  malice,  and  if  I  revenge  myself  in 
words,  it  is  because  it  is  a  relief  to  say  just  whatever 
is  on  the  end  of  my  tongue,  and  then  I  never  give  it 
another  thought  and  forgive  and  forget  as  God  has 
commanded.  As  for  not  taking  care  either  of  my 
person  or  my  manners,  that  ought  to  show  you  that 
I  am  not  so  silly  as  to  consider  myself  pretty,  when  I 
can  see  that  I  am  so  ugly  that  nobody  can  bear  to 
look  at  me.  I  have  heard  it  often  enough  to  know 
it,  and  when  I  see  how  harsh  and  contemptuous 
people  are  to  those  who  have  not  had  their  full  share 
of  the  good  gifts  of  our  dear  Lord,  I  take  pleasure  in 
shocking  them,  consoling  myself  with  the  thought 


116  FADETTE 

that  my  face  is  not  repulsive  to  the  good  Lord  or  to 
my  guardian  angel,  who  would  no  more  reproach  me 
for  having  it  than  I  would  reproach  them  for  giving 
it.  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  say,  '  There  is  a  cater- 
pillar! ugly  creature!  ah,  how  hideous  it  is!  —  let's 
kill  it!'  I  would  not  kill  the  meanest  creature  which 
God  has  made,  and  if  a  caterpillar  falls  into  the  water, 
I  hold  out  a  leaf  for  it  to  crawl  upon.  For  that  rea- 
son they  say  that  I  like  all  sorts  of  noxious  creatures, 
and  that  I  am  a  witch,  because  I  do  not  like  to  hurt  a 
frog,  to  tear  the  legs  off  a  wasp,  and  nail  a  live  bat  to 
a  tree.  '  Poor  thing,'  I  say,  '  if  nothing  ugly  had  a 
right  to  live,  I  should  have  to  die  as  well  as  you.' " 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SOMEHOW  or  other  Landry  was  touched  when  lit- 
tle Fadette  spoke  so  humbly  and  in  such  a  matter-of- 
course  way  of  her  ugliness,  and,  recalling  her  face, 
of  which  he  could  catch  only  a  glimpse  on  account 
of  the  darkness,  he  said  to  her,  without  intending  to 
flatter  her,  "  But,  Fadette,  you  are  not  so  ugly  as  you 
think,  or  as  you  try  to  make  out.  There  are  a  good 
many  uglier  people  than  you,  who  are  never  told 
of  it." 

"  It  makes  no  difference  whether  I  am  a  little  more 
or  a  little  less  ugly,  —  you  cannot  say,  Landry,  that  I 
am  a  pretty  girl.  Come,  don't  try  to  comfort  me ;  for 
I  don't  care  anything  about  it." 

"Pshaw!  Who  knows  how  you  would  look  if  you 
were  dressed  like  the  other  girls,  and  had  on  a  pretty 
cap!  One  thing  everybody  acknowledges;  that  is, 
that  if  your  nose  were  not  so  short,  your  mouth  so 
big,  and  your  skin  so  dark,  you  wouldn't  be  at  all  bad- 
looking.  They  say  too,  that  there  is  not  another 
such  a  pair  of  eyes  in  all  the  country  round,  and  if 
they  had  not  such  a  bold,  defiant  expression,  anybody 
would  be  glad  to  get  a  kind  glance  from  them." 

Landry  said  this  without  much  reflection.  He 
found  himself  recalling  all  Fadette's  good  and  bad 
117 


118  FADETTE 

points,  and,  for  the  first  time,  he  felt  an  interest  in 
the  subject  which  he  would  not  have  believed  possi- 
ble a  short  time  before.  She  noticed  it,  but  said 
nothing  about  it,  being  too  clever  to  take  it  seriously. 

"  My  eyes  look  kindly  on  everything  good,11  said 
she,  "  and  with  pity  on  what  is  not  good.  Then  I 
don't  mind  displeasing  people  who  don't  please  me, 
and  I  cannot  see  how  all  those  pretty  girls  whom  I 
see  admired,  can  flirt  with  everybody,  as  if  they  liked 
one  person  as  well  as  another.  As  for  me,  —  if  I 
were  pretty,  —  I  should  not  want  any  one  to  think 
me  so,  or  find  me  attractive  but  the  one  person  of 
whom  I  was  fond." 

Landry  could  not  help  thinking  of  Madelon,  but 
little  Fadette  did  not  allow  him  to  dwell  on  that  sub- 
ject. She  continued : 

"So  then,  Landry,  the  only  wrong  I  have  done 
other  people,  is  that  I  have  never  sought  their 
pity  or  indulgence  for  my  ugliness.  I  have  showed 
it  to  them  without  any  disguise  or  embellishment, 
and  that  offends  them,  and  makes  them  forget  that 
though  I  have  often  done  them  a  favor,  I  have  never 
done  them  any  harm.  On  the  other  hand,  even  if  I 
should  take  an  interest  in  my  appearance,  where 
should  I  manage  to  buy  finery?  Have  I  ever  begged, 
even  though  I  haven't  a  cent  to  bless  myself  with? 
What  does  my  grandmother  give  me  beside  board 
and  lodging?  And  if  I  don't  know  how  to  make  use 
of  the  poor  rags  my  mother  left  me,  is  it  my  fault, 
since  nobody  ever  took  the  trouble  to  teach  me,  and 


FADETTE  119 

I  hav.e  been  left  to  myself  since  I  was  ten  years  old, 
with  nobody  to  look  after  me  ?  I  know  what  people 
say  about  me,  though  you  are  too  kind  to  speak  of  it. 
They  say  that  I  am  sixteen  years  old,  and  that  I 
could  hire  myself  out,  and  then  I  should  earn  wages 
enough  to  support  myself.  They  say  that  I  only 
stay  with  my  grandmother  because  I  am  too  lazy  and 
too  self-willed  to  work  out,  though  she  does  not  like 
me  at  all,  and  is  well  able  to  keep  a  servant." 

"  Well,  Fadette,  isn't  it  true  ? "  said  Landry.  "  They 
say  that  you  are  not  fond  of  work,  and  your  grand- 
mother herself  says  that  she  would  be  much  better 
off  if  she  had  a  servant  in  your  place." 

"  My  grandmother  says  that  because  she  loves  to 
scold  and  complain.  And  yet,  whenever  I  speak  of 
going  away,  she  refuses  to  let  me  go,  because  she 
knows  that  I  am  more  useful  to  her  than  she  will 
admit.  Her  eyes  and  her  limbs  are  not  so  young 
as  they  once  were,  and  she  is  no  longer  able  to 
gather  the  herbs  which  she  uses  for  her  potions 
and  powders :  and  some  of  them  grow  very  far 
off  and  are  difficult  to  get  at.  Besides  that,  as  I 
told  you,  I  know  more  about  some  kinds  of  herbs 
than  she  does  herself,  and  she  is  surprised  at  the 
good  effects  of  the  medicines  I  make.  As  for  our 
animals,  they  are  so  fine  that  everybody  is  aston- 
ished to  see  such  a  handsome  flock  belonging  to 
people  who  have  no  pasture  of  their  own.  My 
grandmother  knows  well  enough  whom  she  ought 
to  thank  for  her  good  yield  of  wool,  and  her  rich 


120  FADETTE 

goat's  milk.  No,  indeed,  she  doesn't  want  me  to  go 
away,  and  I  am  worth  a  great  deal  more  than  I  cost 
her.  I  am  fond  of  my  grandmother,  even  if  she 
does  scold  me  and  give  me  hardly  anything  to  eat. 
But  I  have  another  reason  for  staying  with  her,  and 
I'll  tell  you,  Landry,  what  it  is,  if  you  care  to  hear." 

"  Well,  go  on  and  tell  it,"  answered  Landry,  who 
was  greatly  interested. 

"  When  I  was  ten  years  old  my  mother  left  in  my 
care  a  poor,  ugly  child,  —  as  ugly  as  I  am,  and  still 
more  unfortunate  ;  for  he  was  born  a  cripple,  is  sickly, 
puny,  misshapen,  and  always  peevish  and  ill-tempered 
because  he  is  always  in  pain,  poor  boy!  Everybody 
abuses  him,  hustles  him  about,  and  calls  him  names, 
my  poor  Grasshopper!  My  grandmother  scolds  him 
severely  and  would  beat  him  too  hard,  if  I  did  not 
protect  him  from  her  by  making  believe  to  whip 
him  myself.  But  I  always  take  care  not  to  hurt 
him  at  all,  and  he  knows  it  well  enough.  So  when 
he  has  done  anything  naughty,  he  runs  and  hides 
himself  under  my  petticoats,  and  says : 

"'Beat  me  before  grandmother  gets  me!1  And  I 
pretend  to  beat,  and  the  little  rascal  makes  believe 
to  cry.  And  then  I  take  care  of  him.  I  can't  always 
help  his  being  in  rags,  poor  little  fellow ;  but  when- 
ever I  can  manage  to  get  an  old  garment  of  any  kind, 
I  make  it  over  for  him,  and  I  cure  him  when  he  is  sick, 
whereas  my  grandmother  would  be  the  death  of  him, 
for  she  doesn't  know  anything  about  the  care  of  chil- 
dren. So  I  look  after  the  poor,  sickly  little  thing,  who 


FADETTE  121 

would  suffer  if  it  were  not  for  me,  and  would  soon  be 
in  the  grave  beside  my  poor  father,  who  died  in  spite 
of  all  my  care.  Perhaps  I  am  not  doing  him  a  kind- 
ness by  keeping  life  in  him,  misshapen  as  he  is,  and 
so  ill-tempered;  but  I  cannot  help  myself.  And 
when  I  think  of  going  out  to  service,  Landry,  so 
that  I  may  have  some  money  of  my  own,  and  es- 
cape from  my  present  wretched  condition,  my  heart 
aches  for  him,  and  I  reproach  myself,  as  if  I  were 
my  Grasshopper's  mother,  and  he  was  about  to  die 
through  my  neglect.  So  now  you  know  all  my  faults 
and  shortcomings,  Landry.  May  the  dear  Lord  be 
my  judge!  I  forgive  those  who  do  not  understand 
me." 


CHAPTER  XX 

LITTLE  Fadette's  account  of  herself  affected  Lan- 
dry  very  much,  and  he  could  not  help  acknowledging 
to  himself  that  her  reasoning  was  unanswerable.  At 
last  he  was  quite  overcome  by  the  way  she  spoke  of 
her  little  brother,  the  Grasshopper,  and  was  seized 
with  a  sudden  liking  for  her,  which  made  him  feel 
as  if  he  would  be  willing  to  take  her  part  against 
the  whole  world. 

"  Any  one  who  could  blame  you,  Fadette,  is  more 
deserving  of  blame  than  you  are.  You  express  your- 
self very  well,  and  nobody  would  give  you  credit  for 
having  so  much  good  sense  and  such  a  kind  heart. 
Why  don't  you  let  people  see  your  true  self?  Then 
nobody  would  speak  ill  of  you  any  more,  and  there 
would  certainly  be  some  who  would  do  you  justice." 

"  But  I  told  you,  Landry,"  answered  she,  "  that  I 
do  not  care  to  please  anybody  whom  I  do  not  like." 

"  And  as  you  have  told  me,  it  must  be  because  —  " 

Then  Landry  stopped,  taken  by  surprise  by  what 
he  found  himself  about  to  say ;  he  continued : 

"  Then  you  must  think  more  of  me  than  you  do  of 
anybody  else?     I  always  thought  you  hated  me,  for  I 
have  never  been  good  to  you." 
122 


FADETTE  123 

"Perhaps  I  did  hate  you  a  little  bit,"  answered 
little  Fadette ;  "  but  if  I  did,  I  shall  never  hate  you 
again  after  to-day,  and  I'll  tell  you  why,  Landry.  I 
thought  you  were  proud,  and  so  you  are ;  but  you'll 
do  your  duty  in  spite  of  your  pride,  and  you  deserve 
all  the  more  credit.  I  thought  you  ungrateful,  and 
though  you  have  been  taught  to  be  so  proud  that  it 
makes  you  a  little  ungrateful,  you  are  so  true  to  your 
word  that  you  keep  it  whatever  it  may  cost  you. 
And  then,  I  thought  you  were  a  coward,  and  that 
made  me  despise  you ;  but  I  find  that  you  are  only 
superstitious,  and  that  you  are  not  wanting  in  courage 
when  you  have  real  danger  to  face.  You  danced 
with  me,  though  it  was  a  great  mortification  to  you. 
You  even  came  into  church  to  look  for  me  after 
Vespers,  just  as  I  had  forgiven  you  in  my  heart  after 
saying  my  prayers,  and  had  made  up  my  mind  not 
to  torment  you  any  more.  You  protected  me  from 
those  naughty  children,  and  you  defied  the  big  boys 
who  would  have  ill-treated  me  if  it  had  not  been  for 
you.  And  then  this  evening  when  you  heard  me 
crying,  you  came  at  once  to  help  and  comfort  me. 
Don't  imagine,  Landry,  that  I  can  ever  forget  such 
things  as  that.  I  will  find  some  means  of  proving  to 
you,  all  your  life  long,  that  I  have  not  forgotten  what 
you  have  done  for  me,  and  I  will  always  do  anything 
I  can  for  you  and  at  any  time.  Now,  to  begin  with, 
I  know  that  I  gave  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to-day. 
Yes,  Landry,  I  am  sure  of  it,  and  I  am  enough  of  a 
witch  to  have  guessed  something  about  you  which  I 


124  FADETTE 

did  not  suspect  this  morning.  Now  do  believe  that 
I  am  more  mischievous  than  malicious,  and  that  if  I 
had  known  that  you  were  in  love  with  Madelon,  I 
would  not  have  made  trouble  between  you  and  her 
as  I  did,  by  making  you  dance  with  me.  I  acknowl- 
edge, I  thought  it  was  great  fun  to  make  you  leave  a 
pretty  girl  to  dance  with  a  fright  like  me ;  but  I  sup- 
posed that  it  was  only  a  wound  to  your  vanity.  When 
I  came  to  understand  that  you  were  really  hurt,  — 
that,  in  spite  of  yourself,  you  could  not  help  looking 
over  at  Madelon,  and  that  you  were  almost  ready  to 
cry  when  you  saw  how  angry  she  was,  —  I  cried  my- 
self! Yes,  I  cried  when  you  wanted  to  fight  her 
admirers,  and  you  thought  they  were  tears  of  repent- 
ance. That  is  the  reason  I  was  still  crying  so  bit- 
terly when  you  happened  to  come  upon  me  here,  and 
I  shall  never  stop  crying  over  it  till  I  have  atoned 
for  the  trouble  I  have  brought  upon  such  a  good  boy 
as  I  now  know  you  to  be." 

"Well,  and  suppose,  my  poor  Fanchon,"  said 
Landry,  much  moved  by  the  tears  which  she  was 
beginning  to  shed  afresh,  "suppose  that  you  did 
cause  a  falling  out  between  me  and  the  girl  with 
whom  you  think  I  am  in  love,  what  could  you  do  to 
reconcile  us  ?  " 

"  Leave  that  to  me,  Landry,"  answered  little 
Fadette.  "  I  know  enough  to  explain  things  satis- 
factorily. Madelon  shall  know  that  it  was  all  my 
fault.  I  will  tell  her  everything  and  will  clear  you 
entirely.  If  she  does  not  make  up  with  you  to-mor- 


FADETTE  125 

row,  it  will  be  because  she  has  never  loved  you, 
and  —  " 

"And  then  I  ought  not  to  feel  badly  about  it, 
Fanchon.  And  as  she  really  never  has  loved  me, 
you  would  have  all  your  trouble  for  nothing.  So 
don't  do  it,  and  don't  worry  yourself  about  the  trifling 
annoyance  you  have  caused  me.  I  have  gotten  over 
it  already." 

"Such  troubles  as  that  are  not  so  easily  healed," 
answered  little  Fadette.  Then  recollecting  herself, 
she  went  on : 

"At  least,  so  they  say.  You  are  angry  now, 
Landry.  To-morrow,  when  you  have  slept  over  it, 
you  will  feel  very  unhappy  till  you  have  made  your 
peace  with  pretty  Madelon." 

"  Perhaps  I  may,"  said  Landry.  "  But  just  now,  I 
pledge  you  my  word  that  I  don't  understand  what 
you  mean,  and  am  not  bothering  myself  about  it  at 
all.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  trying  to  make  me 
believe  that  I  am  in  love  with  her,  and  I  really  think 
that  if  I  ever  did  care  for  her,  it  was  so  little  that  I 
can  hardly  remember  it." 

"  That's  strange ! "  said  little  Fadette,  sighing.  "  Is 
that  the  way  you  boys  love  ?  " 

"Pshaw!  You  girls  don't  love  any  better!  Just 
see  how  little  it  takes  to  offend  you,  and  how  soon 
you  take  up  with  any  new  person  who  happens  to 
come  along.  But  perhaps  we  are  talking  about 
things  which  we  don't  understand ;  at  least  I  don't 
believe  that  you  know  what  you  are  talking  about, 


126  FADETTE 

Fadette ;  you,  who  are  always  making  fun  of  lovers. 
I've  no  doubt  you  think  it  would  be  great  fun  to  try 
and  patch  up  my  quarrel  with  Madelon.  Don't  do  it, 
I  tell  you ;  for  she  might  think  that  I  had  asked  you 
to  do  it,  and  she  would  be  very  much  mistaken. 
Then  she  might  be  angry  if  she  thought  that  I  was 
representing  myself  as  her  accepted  lover ;  for,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I've  never  made  love  to  her  at  all,  and  even 
if  I  did  like  her  society,  and  was  fond  of  dancing  with 
her,  she  never  encouraged  me  to  say  anything  to  her 
on  the  subject.  So  we  had  better  let  the  matter 
drop.  She  may  get  over  it  by  herself  if  she  chooses, 
and  if  she  doesn't,  I  don't  think  it  will  be  the  death 
of  me." 

"I  know  what  you  think  about  that,  better  than 
you  do  yourself,  Landry,"  said  little  Fadette.  "  I 
believe  you  when  you  say  that  you  have  never  told 
your  love  to  Madelon  in  so  many  words,  but  she 
must  be  very  stupid  if  she  has  not  read  it  in  your 
eyes,  especially  to-day.  Since  I  was  the  cause  of  your 
quarrel,  I  must  try  and  bring  you  together  again,  and 
it  would  be  a  good  opportunity  to  let  Madelon  know 
that  you  love  her.  I  will  undertake  to  tell  her,  and  I 
will  do  it  so  delicately  and  with  so  much  tact,  that  she 
can  never  accuse  you  of  putting  it  into  my  head.  Just 
trust  your  little  Fadette,  Landry,  —  the  poor  ugly 
Cricket  whose  heart  is  not  so  ugly  as  her  face,  —  and 
forgive  my  having  tormented  you ;  for  it  will  all  turn 
out  right.  You  will  find  out  that  if  it  is  pleasant  to 
have  a  pretty  girl  in  love  with  you,  it  is  also  very  con- 


FADETTE  127 

venient  to  have  an  ugly  girl  as  a  friend ;  for  ugly  girls 
are  disinterested  and  are  not  so  touchy,  and  don't 
bear  malice  for  every  fancied  slight." 

"  It  doesn't  make  any  difference  whether  you  are 
pretty  or  ugly,  Fanchon,"  said  Landry,  taking  her 
hand.  "  I  can  see  already  that  your  friendship  is  a 
very  good  thing  to  have,  —  so  good,  that  perhaps  it 
is  more  to  be  desired  than  love.  I  know  now  that  you 
must  have  a  good  disposition,  for  I  was  very  rude  to 
you  to-day,  and  you  did  not  resent  it,  and  though  you 
say  that  I  have  treated  you  well,  I  know  better,  —  I 
have  acted  very  meanly  indeed." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Landry?  I  don't  know 
what  —  " 

"  Why,  I  didn't  kiss  you  once  in  the  dance,  though 
it  is  the  custom,  and  I  ought  to  have  done  it.  I  treated 
you  as  if  you  were  a  little  girl  of  ten,  whom  no  one 
would  take  the  trouble  to  kiss,  and  yet  you  are 
almost  as  old  as  I  am ;  there  isn't  more  than  a  year 
between  us.  So  I  really  insulted  you,  and  if  you 
were  not  such  a  goodrhearted  girl,  you  would  have 
noticed  it." 

"  I  never  once  thought  of  it,"  said  little  Fadette ; 
and  she  got  up,  for  she  felt  that  she  was  not  telling 
the  truth,  and  she  did  not  want  him  to  find  it  out. 
"Come,"  said  she,  trying  to  speak  cheerfully,  "just 
hear  the  crickets  chirping  in  the  stubble  fields!  They 
are  calling  me  by  name,  and  that  owl  over  there  is 
telling  me  the  hour  by  the  star  clock  in  the  sky." 

"  I  hear  it  too,  and  I  must  go  back  to  La  Priche ; 


128  FADETTE 

but  before  I  say  good-bye,  Fadette,  won't  you  tell  mt 
that  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

"  But  I  am  not  angry  with  you,  Landry.  and  I  have 
nothing  to  forgive." 

"Yes,  you  have,1'  said  Landry,  who  felt  curiously 
perturbed  since  she  had  been  talking  to  him  about 
love  and  friendship  in  so  soft  a  voice  that  the  drowsy 
chirping  of  the  bulfinches  in  the  thicket  seemed 
harsh  in  comparison.  "Yes,  you  have  something  to 
forgive,  —  and  you  must  let  me  kiss  you  now,  to  make 
up  for  not  doing  it  to-day." 

Little  Fadette  trembled,  then  recovering  her  self- 
possession,  she  said : 

"  So  you  want  me  to  let  you  do  penance  for  your 
shortcomings.  Well,  I  will  acquit  you,  my  boy.  It 
is  enough  to  have  danced  with  the  ugly  girl,  it  would 
be  too  much  to  expect  you  to  kiss  her,  too." 

"Ah,  don't  say  that,"  exclaimed  Landry,  catching 
hold  of  her  hand  and  arm  at  the  same  time  ;  "  I  don't 
think  it  would  be  a  penance  to  kiss  you  —  at  least 
if  it  didn't  offend  and  annoy  you,  coming  from 
me  —  " 

And  as  he  said  this,  he  was  seized  with  such  a 
strong  desire  to  kiss  little  Fadette  that  he  trembled 
for  fear  she  would  not  consent. 

"  Listen,  Landry,"  said  she  to  him  in  her  soft, 
caressing  voice  ;  "  if  I  were  a  pretty  girl,  I  should  tell 
you  that  this  is  neither  the  place  nor  the  time  for  kiss- 
ing, as  if  we  were  doing  it  on  the  sly.  If  I  were  a 
flirt,  I  should  think,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  time 


FADETTE  129 

and  place  were  just  suitable ;  for  you  can't  see  how 
ugly  I  am  in  the  dark,  and  as  there  is  nobody  here, 
you  need  not  be  ashamed  of  this  notion  which  you 
have  taken  into  your  head.  But  as  I  am  neither 
pretty  nor  a  coquette,  I  must  tell  you  this  :  just  shake 
hands  with  me  to  show  that  we  are  friends,  and  that 
will  be  quite  enough  for  me ;  for  I  have  never  had  a 
friend  before,  and  never  expect  to  have  another." 

"Yes,"  said  Landry,  "I'll  shake  hands  with  you 
gladly ;  but  listen,  Fadette,  the  most  honest  friend- 
ship—  and  that  is  what  I  feel  for  you  —  need  not 
prevent  your  allowing  me  to  kiss  you.  If  you  will 
not  give  me  that  token  of  good-will,  I  shall  think 
you  have  something  against  me." 

Then  he  tried  to  snatch  a  kiss,  but  she  resisted,  and 
when  he  persevered,  she  began  to  cry  and  said,  "  Let 
me  go,  Landry,  —  you  hurt  my  feelings!  " 

Landry  stopped  in  surprise,  and  was  so  annoyed 
to  see  that  she  was  crying  that  he  was  almost  angry 
with  her. 

"  Now  I  see  that  you  were  not  telling  me  the  truth 
when  you  said  that  you  did  not  care  if  nobody  else 
liked  you  but  me.  You  like  somebody  better  than 
you  do  me,  and  that  is  the  reason  you  will  not 
kiss  me." 

"  No,  Landry,"  answered  she,  sobbing ;  "  but  I  am 
afraid  that  if  you  kiss  me  at  night  when  you  can't 
see  me,  you  will  hate  me  when  you  see  me  again 
by  daylight." 

"Haven't  I  seen  you  before?"  said  Landry,  pro- 
K 


130  FADETTE 

voked.  "  Don't  I  see  you  this  very  minute  ?  Just 
come  a  little  this  way,  here  in  the  moonlight  —  I 
can  see  you  as  well  as  can  be,  and,  pretty  or  ugly, 
I  like  your  face,  for  I  like  you.  That's  all  I  have 
to  say  about  it." 

And  then  he  kissed  her,  —  at  first  quite  timidly, 
and  then  so  increased  in  his  ardor  that  she  grew 
frightened,  and  pushed  him  away,  saying : 

"  That  will  do,  Landry.  That  will  do.  Any  one 
would  think  that  you  were  kissing  me  because  you 
were  angry  with  me,  or  that  you  were  thinking  of 
Madelon.  Don't  worry  yourself!  I  will  speak  to 
her  to-morrow,  and  you  will  enjoy  kissing  her  a 
great  deal  more  than  you  enjoy  kissing  me." 

So  she  sprang  hastily  up  the  bank  which  led  to  the 
road,  and  ran  off  with  her  usual  light  step. 

Landry  was  quite  infatuated,  and  he  had  a  great 
mind  to  run  after  her.  He  started  three  times  to 
follow  her,  before  he  came  to  the  conclusion  to  go 
down  the  river  bank.  At  last,  feeling  as  if  the  devil 
was  at  his  heels,  he  began  to  run  too,  and  never 
stopped  till  he  got  to  La  Priche. 

The  next  morning  early,  as  he  was  feeding  his 
cattle  and  petting  them,  he  kept  thinking  of  the 
conversation  he  had  had  with  little  Fadette  in  the 
Chaumois  road,  and  which  had  lasted  a  full  hour, 
though  it  seemed  to  him  like  a  moment.  His  head 
was  heavy  with  sleep  and  the  excitement  of  a  day 
which  had  turned  out  contrary  to  his  expectations. 
He  was  alarmed  and  puzzled  as  he  recalled  the  feel- 


FADETTE  131 

ing  which  had  taken  possession  of  him  with  regard 
to  this  girl,  whom  he  now  saw  in  his  mind's  eye,  ugly 
and  ill-dressed  as  he  had  always  known  her.  Be- 
tween whiles,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  must  have 
dreamed  of  wanting  to  kiss  her,  and  of  pressing  her 
to  his  heart  as  if  he  loved  her  dearly,  and  as  if  she 
had  all  of  a  sudden  become  the  prettiest  and  dearest 
girl  in  the  world  to  him. 

"  She  must  be  a  witch  as  they  say  she  is,  deny  it  as 
she  may,"  thought  he ;  "  for  she  certainly  bewitched 
me  last  night,  and  never  in  all  my  life  did  I  feel  such 
intense  love  for  father,  mother,  sister,  or  brother,  — 
certainly  not  for  pretty  Madelon,  and  not  even  for 
my  twin  brother  Sylvinet,  —  as  I  felt  for  that  devil  of 
a  girl  those  two  or  three  minutes.  If  poor  Sylvinet 
could  have  seen  my  heart,  he  would  have  died  of  jeal- 
ousy. My  fancy  for  Madelon  did  not  interfere  with 
my  love  for  my  brother ;  but  if  I  should  pass  a  single 
day  of  such  excitement  and  infatuation  as  I  felt  those 
few  moments  when  I  was  with  Fadette,  I  should  lose 
my  senses  and  think  there  was  nobody  else  in  the 
world.1' 

And  Landry  felt  half  dead  with  shame,  fatigue,  and 
vexation.  He  seated  himself  on  the  ox  manger,  and 
trembled  for  fear  that  the  witch  had  deprived  him  of 
his  courage,  his  reason,  and  his  health. 

But  when  it  was  broad  daylight,  and  the  farm 
laborers  of  La  Priche  were  all  up,  they  began  to 
tease  him  about  dancing  with  the  ugly  Cricket,  and 
they  made  her  out  so  ugly,  so  ill-bred,  so  shabby, 


132  FADETTE 

that  he  did  not  know  where  to  hide  his  face,  he  was 
so  ashamed,  not  only  of  what  they  had  seen,  but  of 
what  he  took  good  care  not  to  tell  them. 

But  he  did  not  get  angry,  for  the  La  Priche  people 
were  all  friendly  to  him  and  meant  no  harm  by  teas- 
ing him.  He  was  even  brave  enough  to  tell  them 
that  little  Fadette  was  not  what  they  believed  her  to 
be,  —  that  she  was  as  good  as  anybody  else,  and  that 
she  was  a  girl  who  was  capable  of  doing  many  a  good 
turn.  Then  they  laughed  at  him  more  than  ever. 

"  I  won't  say  anything  about  her  mother,"  said 
they,  "but  as  for  her,  —  she  is  a  child  who  doesn't 
know  anything  at  all,  and  I  advise  you  not  to  try  any 
of  her  remedies  on  a  sick  beast ;  for  she  is  a  little 
chatterbox  and  she  doesn't  know  anything  about 
curing  by  magic.  But  she  seems  to  know  how  to 
bewitch  boys  ;  for  you  never  left  her  side  all  St.  An- 
doche's  Day,  and  you'd  better  look  out,  Landry,  my 
boy,  or  they'll  soon  call  you  the  Cricket's  mate,  and 
the  will-o'-the-wisp's  double.  The  devil  will  get 
after  you.  Old  Nick  himself  will  come  and  pull  the 
sheets  off  our  beds  and  tangle  our  horses'  manes. 
We  shall  have  to  send  for  the  priest  to  take  off  the 
spell  she  has  put  upon  you." 

"  I  believe,"  said  little  Solange,  "  that  he  must  have 
put  on  one  of  his  stockings  wrong  side  out  yesterday 
morning.  That  attracts  witches,  and  little  Fadette 
must  have  noticed  it." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DURING  the  day,  Landry,  who  was  busy  sowing, 
saw  little  Fadette  pass.  She  was  walking  fast,  and 
went  off  in  the  direction  of  a  coppice  where  Madelon 
was  cutting  leaves  for  her  sheep.  It  was  time  to  un- 
yoke the  oxen,  for  they  had  finished  their  half-day's 
work,  and  as  Landry  was  leading  them  to  pasture  he 
watched  little  Fadette  running  along  with  a  step  so 
light  that  the  grass  hardly  bent  beneath  her  tread. 
He  was  anxious  to  know  what  she  was  going  to  tell 
Madelon,  and  instead  of  hurrying  off  to  his  dinner, 
which  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  furrow,  still  warm 
from  the  ploughshare  he  walked  on  tiptoe  along  the 
edge  of  the  wood,  to  try  and  hear  what  the  two  girls 
were  talking  about.  He  could  not  see  them,  and  as 
Madelon  muttered  her  answers,  he  could  not  hear 
what  she  said ;  but  little  Fadette's  voice,  though  soft, 
was  none  the  less  clear,  and  he  did  not  lose  a  word, 
though  she  spoke  in  her  usual  tone.  She  was  talking 
to  Madelon  about  him,  and  told  her,  as  she  had 
promised  Landry,  how,  ten  months  before,  she  had 
made  him  pledge  her  his  word  to  hold  himself  at  her 
disposal,  whenever  she  should  demand  anything  of 
him.  And  she  explained  this  humbly  and  so  prettily 
that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  listen  to  her,  and  then,  with- 
»33 


134  FADETTE 

out  mentioning  the  will-o'-the-wisp,  or  how  it  had 
frightened  Landry,  she  told  about  his  being  almost 
drowned  on  the  Eve  of  St.  Andoche,  by  attempt- 
ing to  cross  the  ford  in  the  wrong  place.  In  short, 
she  represented  everything  in  its  best  light,  and 
made  it  evident  that  all  the  trouble  came  from  a 
whim  of  her  own,  as  she  wanted  to  dance  with  a  big 
boy,  instead  of  the  little  urchins  who  had  always  been 
her  partners. 

At  this  point,  Madelon,  who  was  quite  out  of 
patience,  raised  her  voice,  and  said : 

"  What  is  all  that  to  me  ?  You  may  dance  all  your 
life  long  with  the  twins  of  the  Twinnery,  for  all  I 
care.  You  won't  hurt  my  feelings,  I  can  tell  you,  and 
I  certainly  shall  not  envy  you." 

And  Fadette  answered : 

"  Don't  speak  so  unkindly  of  poor  Landry ;  for  his 
heart  is  set  on  you,  and  if  you  don't  accept  it,  you  will 
grieve  him  more  than  I  can  tell  you." 

She  expressed  herself  so  prettily  and  in  so  caress- 
ing a  tone  of  voice,  and  lavished  such  praise  on 
Landry,  that  he  would  gladly  have  borrowed  her 
powers  of  speech  for  use  on  future  occasions,  and 
blushed  with  pleasure  to  hear  himself  so  eulogized. 
Madelon  was  also  amazed  at  little  Fadette's  pretty 
manner  of  speaking,  but  she  despised  her  too  much 
to  let  her  see  how  greatly  she  was  impressed. 

"You  have  a  nimble  tongue,  and  are  as  bold  as 
brass,"  said  she ;  "  and  it  looks  as  if  your  grand- 
mother had  given  you  lessons  in  witchcraft ;  but  I 


FADETTE  135 

don't  like  to  talk  to  witches.  It's  bad  luck,  and  so 
you  will  please  let  me  alone,  you  silly  Cricket.  You've 
caught  a  beau  ;  —  keep  him,  my  pretty  dear,  for  he  is 
the  first  and  last  who  will  ever  take  a  fancy  to  your 
ugly  mug.  You  needn't  think  I'd  take  your  leavings  ; 
—  no,  not  if  he  were  a  prince.  Your  Landry  is 
nothing  but  a  fool,  and  he  must  be  utterly  good  for 
nothing,  if  you,  believing  that  you  had  taken  him 
away  from  me,  have  already  come  to  ask  me  to  take 
him  back.  A  fine  beau  for  me!  —  A  fellow  that  even 
little  Fadette  won't  have ! " 

'•  If  that  is  what  is  wounding  your  pride,"  answered 
little  Fadette,  in  a  tone  of  voice  which  went  straight 
to  the  bottom  of  Landry's  heart,  "  and  if  you  are  so 
haughty  that  you  will  not  do  him  justice  till  you  have 
first  humiliated  me,  then  rest  content,  Madelon,  and 
trample  under  foot  the  self-respect  and  spirit  of  the 
poor  little  field  Cricket.  You  say  that  I  must  despise 
Landry  or  I  wouldn't  beg  you  to  forgive  him.  Well, 
let  me  tell  you,  if  you  care  to  hear  it,  that  I  have 
been  in  love  with  him  a  long  time,  —  that  he  is  the 
only  boy  I  ever  cared  for,  and  that  I  shall  perhaps 
never  care  for  anybody  else  as  long  as  I  live.  But  I 
have  too  much  sense,  and  am  also  too  proud,  to  fancy 
that  I  can  ever  win  his  love.  He  is  handsome,  rich, 
and  highly  esteemed  ;  I  am  ugly,  poor,  and  despised. 
I  know  well  enough  that  he  is  too  good  for  me,  and 
you  must  have  seen  how  he  scorned  me  at  the  festival. 
So,  I  say,  don't  worry ;  for  the  man  to  whom  little 
Fadette  would  not  dare  to  lift  her  eyes,  loves  you 


136  FADETTE 

dearly.  Punish  little  Fadette  by  ridiculing  her,  and 
by  taking  possession  of  him  to  whom  she  would  not 
venture  to  lay  claim.  If  you 'won't  do  it  out  of  love 
for  him,  you  may,  at  least,  do  it  to  punish  my  inso- 
lence,—  promise  me,  when  he  comes  to  make  his 
peace  with  you,  to  treat  him  kindly,  and  give  him  a 
little  encouragement." 

Instead  of  being  touched  by  such  humility  and  self- 
devotion,  Madelon  was  very  scornful  indeed,  and 
dismissed  little  Fadette,  saying  that  she  might  keep 
Landry,  —  he  would  just  suit  her,  —  but  as  for  herself, 
he  was  too  childish  and  too  big  a  fool.  But  little 
Fadette's  act  of  self-sacrifice  bore  fruit  in  spite  of 
Madelon's  disdain.  Such  is  the  perversity  of  women's 
hearts,  that  a  boy  seems  to  them  a  man  as  soon  as  he 
is  liked  and  petted  by  other  women.  Madelon,  who 
had  never  given  Landry  a  serious  thought,  now  be- 
gan to  think  about  him  a  great  deal  as  soon  as 
Fadette  had  gone  away.  She  remembered  every- 
thing the  clever  little  talker  had  said  to  her  about 
Landry's  love,  and  she  rejoiced  in  being  able  to 
avenge  herself  on  Fadette,  now  that  she,  poor  girl, 
had  gone  so  far  as  to  acknowledge  that  she  was  in 
love  with  him  herself. 

That  evening  she  went  to  La  Priche,  —  which  was 
only  two  or  three  gun-shots  away  from  her  own  home,  — 
and  pretending  to  be  in  search  of  one  of  her  own  cattle, 
which  had  strayed  into  the  same  field  with  her  uncle's, 
she  took  care  that  Landry  should  see  her,  and  encour- 
aged him,  with  a  glance,  to  come  and  speak  to  her. 


FADETTE  137 

Landry  understood  very  well,  for  since  he  had 
seen  so  much  of  little  Fadette  his  wits  had  sharpened 
wonderfully. 

"  Fadette  is  a  witch,"  thought  he ;  "  she  has  re- 
established me  in  Madelon's  good  graces,  and  she  has 
accomplished  more  for  me  in  a  half-hour's  chat  than 
I  could  have  done  for  myself  in  a  year.  She  is 
wonderfully  clever,  and  God  doesn't  often  make  so 
good  a  heart  as  hers." 

And  as  this  thought  passed  through  his  mind,  he 
looked  at  Madelon,  but  so  coldly  that  she  went  away 
before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  to  go  and  speak  to 
her.  He  was  not  abashed  in  her  presence,  —  strange 
to  say,  his  shyness  had  all  disappeared,  but  with  it 
had  vanished  the  pleasure  he  had  once  taken  in  her 
society,  and  his  desire  to  win  her  love. 

He  had  hardly  eaten  supper  when  he  pretended 
to  be  going  to  bed.  He  soon  got  out  on  the  side 
next  the  wall,  crept  softly  out,  and  started  off  for  the 
Roulettes  ford.  This  evening,  too,  the  will-o'-the- 
wisp  was  flitting  about.  As  soon  as  he  caught  sight 
of  it,  Landry  thought : 

"  So  much  the  better ;  there  is  the  will-o'-the-wisp. 
Fadette  can't  be  far  off."  So  he  crossed  the  ford, 
quite  fearlessly,  made  no  misstep,  and  went  up  to 
Mother  Fadet's  house,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout.  He 
waited  a  little  while,  but  saw  no  light  and  heard  no 
noise.  Everybody  was  in  bed.  He  was  in  hopes  that 
the  Cricket,  who  often  prowled  about  at  night  after 
her  grandmother  and  the  Grasshopper  were  asleep, 


138  FADETTE 

might  be  wandering  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood. 
So  he  set  off  to  try  and  find  her.  He  crossed  the 
field ;  he  went  as  far  as  the  Chaumois  road,  whistling 
and  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice  to  attract  atten- 
tion ;  but  he  saw  nothing  but  a  badger  stealing 
through  the  stubble,  and  a  screech-owl  hooting  on  a 
tree-top.  He  had  to  go  home  without  finding  an 
opportunity  to  thank  the  girl  who  had  done  him  such 
good  service. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  WHOLE  week  passed  and  Landry  did  not  meet 
Fadette,  which  surprised  and  worried  him  very  much. 

"  She  must  still  think  me  ungrateful,"  said  he ; 
"  and  yet  if  I  haven't  succeeded  in  seeing  her,  it  is 
not  for  want  of  waiting  and  looking  for  her.  I  must 
have  hurt  her  feelings  by  kissing  her  without  her 
consent,  yet  I  meant  no  harm,  and  never  thought  of 
offending  her."  And  he  gave  more  time  to  thought 
this  week  than  he  had  ever  given  before  in  all  his 
life. 

His  mind  was  disturbed,  he  was  pensive  and  agi- 
tated, and  he  could  not  work  without  an  effort ;  for 
neither  the  big  oxen,  nor  the  shining  plough,  nor  the 
rich  red  soil,  moist  with  the  fine  rain  of  autumn,  could 
fill  his  thoughts  now. 

Thursday  evening  he  went  to  see  his  twin,  and 
found  him  as  anxious  as  himself.  Sylvinet's  dis- 
position was  unlike  his,  but  they  were  often  in  sym- 
pathy with  each  other.  He  seemed  to  have  divined 
that  something  had  disturbed  his  brother's  tranquillity, 
and  yet  he  was  far  from  suspecting  what  it  was.  He 
asked  whether  he  had  made  up  with  Madelon,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  Landry  lied  to  him  and 
139 


140  FADETTE 

said  yes.  The  fact  is  that  Landry  had  not  spoken  a 
word  to  Madelon,  and  thought  there  was  plenty  of 
time  for  that,  —  there  was  no  hurry. 

At  last  Sunday  came,  and  Landry  went  to  early 
Mass.  He  went  in  before  the  bell  had  rung,  know- 
ing that  little  Fadette  was  in  the  habit  of  coming 
at  that  time,  because  her  prayers  were  always  so  long 
that  everybody  ridiculed  her.  He  saw  a  little  figure 
kneeling  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  —  the 
back  turned,  and  the  face  hidden  in  the  hands  so 
that  there  might  be  nothing  to  distract  the  mind. 
It  was  little  Fadette's  posture,  but  it  was  not  her 
cap  nor  dress,  and  Landry  went  out  again  to  see  if 
he  could  not  find  her  on  the  porch,  which  we  call 
by  a  word  which  signifies  the  place  of  rags  and 
tatters,  because  there  are  so  many  ragged  beggars 
there  during  service.  Fadette's  rags  were  the  only 
ones  which  he  did  not  see.  He  heard  Mass  with- 
out seeing  her,  and  it  was  only  at  the  Sursum  Corda 
that,  looking  once  more  toward  that  girl  who  was 
praying  so  fervently  in  the  chapel,  he  saw  her  raise 
her  head,  and  recognized  his  Cricket,  though  her 
whole  appearance  was  totally  unfamiliar  to  him. 
She  still  wore  the  same  shabby  dress,  the  coarse 
woollen  petticoat,  the  red  apron,  and  the  linen  cap, 
without  the  usual  lace  trimmings ;  but  she  had 
bleached,  cut  over,  and  mended  everything  during 
the  week.  She  had  let  down  her  dress  so  that  it  fell 
over  her  stockings,  at  a  more  suitable  length.  Her 
stockings  were  very  white,  and  so  was  her  cap,  which 


FADETTE  141 

had  been  altered  over  into  the  new  shape,  and  sat 
prettily  on  her  neatly  braided  black  hair.  She  wore 
a  new  neckkerchief  of  a  pretty,  soft  yellow,  which 
suited  her  dark  complexion.  She  had  also  length- 
ened her  bodice,  and  instead  of  looking  like  a 
dressed-up  piece  of  wood,  she  had  a  slender,  graceful 
waist  like  a  beautiful  honey-bee.  Moreover,  by  wash- 
ing her  face  and  hands  with  some  unknown  tincture  of 
flowers  and  herbs,  her  pale  face  and  her  dainty  little 
hands  looked  as  fresh  and  soft  as  the  white  blossoms 
of  the  spring  hawthorn. 

Landry,  seeing  her  so  changed,  let  his  prayer-book 
drop,  and  at  the  noise  it  made,  little  Fadette  turned 
quite  around  and  looked  at  him,  and  their  eyes  met. 
She  blushed  a  little,  —  a  pale  pink,  like  the  wild  hedge 
rose,  —  but  it  made  her  look  almost  beautiful,  es- 
pecially as  her  black  eyes,  which  were  undeniably 
lovely,  were  so  brilliant,  that  she  seemed  completely 
transfigured.  Landry  thought  again,  "  She  must  be 
a  witch.  She  has  willed  to  change  herself  from  an 
ugly  girl  into  a  pretty  one,  —  and,  lo  and  behold! 
—  some  miracle  has  made  her  beautiful ! " 

He  was  really  quite  awestruck,  but  that  did  not 
prevent  his  having  such  a  desire  to  approach  and 
speak  to  her,  that  his  heart  beat  with  impatience  for 
Mass  to  be  over. 

But  she  did  not  look  at  him  again,  and,  instead  of 
scampering  about  and  frolicking  with  the  children 
after  her  prayers,  she  slipped  out  so  quietly  that  she 
hardly  gave  people  time  to  notice  the  change  and 


142  FADETTE 

improvement  in  her.  Landry  did  not  dare  follow 
her,  particularly  as  Sylvinet  never  took  his  eyes  off  of 
him ;  but,  about  an  hour  afterward,  he  succeeded  in 
getting  off,  and  this  time,  following  the  guidance  of 
his  heart,  he  found  little  Fadette,  who  was  tending 
her  cattle  in  the  little  hollow  roadway  called  the 
Gendarme's  Path,  because  one  of  the  king's  gen- 
darmes had  been  killed  there  by  the  people  of  La 
Cosse  in  olden  times,  as  he  was  trying  to  compel  the 
poor  people  to  pay  the  tax  and  do  extra  duty,  con- 
trary to  the  requirements  of  the  law,  already  severe 
enough. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

As  it  was  Sunday,  Fadette  was  neither  sewing  nor 
spinning  as  she  watched  her  flocks.  She  was  en- 
gaged in  a  simple  amusement  which  our  peasant 
children  sometimes  take  very  seriously.  She  was 
looking  for  four-leaved  clover,  which  is  seldom  seen, 
and  which  brings  good  luck  to  those  who  chance  to 
find  it. 

"  Have  you  found  one,  Fanchon,"  said  Landry  to 
her,  as  soon  as  he  reached  her  side. 

"  I  have  often  found  them,"  answered  she ;  "  but 
they  don't  bring  good  luck,  and  I  am  none  the  better 
off  for  having  three  sprigs  in  my  book." 

Landry  sat  down  beside  her  as  if  to  have  a  long 
talk.  But,  lo  and  behold,  all  of  a  sudden,  he  felt 
more  bashful  than  he  had  ever  felt  with  Madelon, 
and  though  he  had  a  good  deal  to  say,  he  could  not 
think  of  a  word. 

Little  Fadette  was  shy  too;  for  though  the  twin 
said  nothing,  he  looked  at  her  with  a  new  expression 
in  his  eyes.  At  last  she  asked  him  why  he  seemed 
so  surprised  at  the  sight  of  her. 

"  Maybe  it  is  because  I  have  made  a  change  in  my 
dress.  I  have  followed  your  advice,  and  I  thought 


144  FADETTE 

that  if  I  wanted  to  appear  like  a  sensible  girl,  I  must 
begin  by  dressing  myself  sensibly.  Now  I  don't 
dare  show  myself  for  fear  that  people  will  find  fault 
with  me  again,  and  say  that  I  have  tried  to  make 
myself  less  ugly,  and  have  not  succeeded." 

"  Let  them  say  what  they  please,"  said  Landry. 
"  But  I  don't  know  what  you  have  done  to  make 
yourself  pretty :  you  certainly  look  lovely  to-day,  and 
nobody  with  eyes  in  his  head  could  deny  it." 

"  Don't  make  fun  of  me,  Landry,"  answered  little 
Fadette.  "They  say  beauty  turns  the  heads  of 
pretty  girls,  and  ugliness  drives  ugly  girls  to  despera- 
tion. I  am  used  to  being  a  fright,  and  I  should  not 
like  to  be  so  foolish  as  to  think  that  any  one  could 
admire  me.  But  you  didn't  come  to  see  me  about 
that,  and  I  am  waiting  to  hear  that  Madelon  has  for- 
given you." 

"  I  didn't  come  to  talk  to  you  about  Madelon.  I 
don't  know  whether  she  has  forgiven  me  or  not,  and 
I  haven't  asked.  I  only  know  that  you  spoke  to  her 
about  me,  and  so  kindly  that  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  you." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  spoke  to  her  about  you  ? 
She  didn't  tell  you,  did  she?  If  she  did,  you  must 
have  made  up  with  her." 

"  We  haven't  made  up ;  we  don't  care  enough  for 
each  other  —  she  and  I  —  to  have  a  falling  out.  I 
know  that  you  spoke  to  her,  for  she  told  somebody 
who  told  me." 

Little   Fadette  blushed   deeply,  which   made   her 


FADETTE  145 

look  still  prettier,  for  never  till  to-day  had  her  cheeks 
worn  that  modest  glow  of  timidity  and  gratification 
which  makes  the  ugliest  face  attractive ;  but  at  the 
same  time  she  was  anxious  lest  Madelon  had  repeated 
her  words,  and  turned  her  into  ridicule  on  account  of 
the  love  which  she  had  confessed  for  Landry. 

"And  what  did  Madelon  say  about  me?"  she 
asked. 

"  She  said  that  I  was  a  great  fool,  and  that  none  of 
the  girls  liked  me,  not  even  little  Fadette.  That 
little  Fadette  despised  me,  ran  away  from  me,  —  had 
hidden  herself  a  whole  week  to  avoid  seeing  me, 
though  I  had  been  looking  everywhere  for  her  that 
whole  week  through.  So  /  am  a  public  laughing- 
stock, —  not  you,  Fadette,  —  because  they  know,  that 
I  love  you,  and  that  you  do  not  return  my  love." 

"  What  a  mean  thing  to  say,"  answered  Fadette,  in 
astonishment ;  for  she  was  not  enough  of  a  witch  to 
guess  that  Landry  was  slyer  than  she.  "I  would 
never  have  believed  that  Madelon  was  so  untruthful 
and  so  deceitful.  But  we  must  forgive  her,  Landry; 
she  says  those  things  out  of  pique,  and  she  would  not 
be  piqued  if  she  did  not  love  you." 

"  Perhaps  that's  so,"  said  Landry  ;  "  that  is  why  you 
are  not  piqued  with  me,  Fanchon.  You  forgive  me 
everything,  because  you  despise  everything  I  do." 

"  I  don't  deserve  that  you  should  say  such  things  to 

me,  Landry.     Now,  tell  the  truth ;   have  I  deserved 

it?     I  never  was  so  foolish  as  to  tell  the  lies  which 

they  put  in  my  mouth.     What  I  said  to  Madelon  was 

L 


146  FADETTE 

altogether  different.  What  I  told  her  was  for  her  ear 
alone,  but  there  was  nothing  which  could  injure  you, 
—  indeed,  on  the  contrary,  it  should  have  proved  to 
her  how  much  I  thought  of  you." 

"  Listen,  Fanchon,"  said  Landry ;  "  don't  let  us  dis- 
pute as  to  what  you  did  or  did  not  say.  I  want  to 
ask  your  advice,  you  are  so  clever.  Last  Sunday, 
when  I  met  you  in  the  road,  I  was  somehow  seized 
with  such  an  affection  for  you  that  I  have  hardly  eaten 
or  slept  this  whole  week.  I  won't  try  to  hide  any- 
thing from  you,  for  you  are  so  sharp  that  it  would  be 
of  no  use.  So  I  will  own  up  that  Monday  morning 
I  was  so  ashamed  of  my  love,  that  I  was  going  to  run 
away,  to  avoid  making  such  a  fool  of  myself  again. 
But  Monday  evening  it  had  taken  such  possession  of 
me  once  more,  that  I  crossed  the  ford  at  night  with- 
out being  at  all  afraid  of  the  will-o'-the-wisp,  though 
it  tried  to  prevent  my  looking  for  you ;  for  it  was  there 
again,  and  when  it  smiled  its  wicked  smile  at  me,  I 
smiled  back  again.  Every  morning  since  Monday,  I 
feel  like  a  fool,  because  they  tease  me  about  my 
liking  for  you ;  and  every  evening  I  feel  half  crazy, 
because  my  love  for  you  is  stronger  than  my  bashful- 
ness.  And  now  to-day,  you  are  so  pretty  and  well- 
mannered  that  everybody  will  be  as  much  surprised 
as  I  was,  and  in  another  fortnight,  if  you  keep  on  as 
you  have  begun,  they  will  not  only  be  ready  enough 
to  understand  how  I  could  fall  in  love  with  you,  but 
there  will  be  a  good  many  in  love  with  you  beside 
myself.  Then  you  will  no  longer  feel  under  obliga- 


FADETTE  147 

tions  to  me  for  loving  you ;  however,  if  you  have  not 
forgotten  last  Sunday,  —  St.  Andoche's  Day,  —  you 
will  remember,  too,  that  I  asked  you  in  the  Chaumois 
road  to  let  me  kiss  you,  and  that  I  did  it  with  as  much 
ardor  as  if  you  had  not  been  considered  ugly  and 
disagreeable.  That  is  all  the  claim  I  have  to  urge, 
Fadette.  Tell  me  if  that  will  count  for  anything,  or 
if  it  makes  you  angry  instead  of  appealing  to  your 
feelings." 

Little  Fadette's  face  was  buried  in  her  hands,  and 
she  did  not  answer.  From  what  he  had  heard  of  her 
talk  with  Madelon,  Landry  believed  that  she  was  in 
love  with  him.  and  I  must  confess  that  this  convic- 
tion of  her  love  for  him  had  aroused  in  his  heart 
a  corresponding  affection  for  her.  But  when  he  saw 
how  mortified  and  downhearted  she  seemed,  he  be- 
gan to  fear  that  she  had  told  Madelon  a  fib,  to  bring 
about  the  reconciliation  which  she  had  undertaken. 
This  worried  him,  and  he  fell  more  in  love  with  her 
than  ever.  He  drew  her  hands  away  from  her  face, 
and  saw  that  she  was  as  pale  as  death,  and  when  he 
bitterly  reproached  her  for  not  returning  his  ardent 
love,  she  sank  to  the  earth  with  clasped  hands, 
breathing  heavily ;  for  she  was  suffocating  and  ready 
to  faint. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

LANDRY  was  much  alarmed,  and  chafed  her  hands 
to  restore  her  to  consciousness.  They  were  as  cold 
as  ice,  and  as  rigid  as  if  made  of  wood.  He  rubbed 
them  a  long  time  between  his  to  warm  them,  and  as 
soon  as  she  could  speak,  she  said  to  him  : 

"  I  think  you  must  be  making  fun  of  me,  Landry. 
But  there  are  some  subjects  too  sacred  for  jesting. 
Leave-me  alone,  I  beg  of  you,  and  never  speak  to  me, 
unless  you  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  me,  in  which  case  I 
shall  always  be  at  your  service." 

"  Fadette,  Fadette,"  said  Landry,  "  you  must  not 
say  that.  It  is  you  who  are  making  fun  of  me.  You 
hate  me,  and  yet  you  made  me  believe  the  contrary." 

"  I !  "  said  she,  in  distress,  "  what  have  I  ever  made 
you  believe  ?  I  offered  you  a  sincere  affection,  such 
as  your  twin  feels  for  you,  and  I  have  given  you  per- 
haps a  truer  love  than  his ;  for  I  was  not  jealous,  and 
instead  of  crossing  you  in  your  love  affairs,  I  have 
done  my  best  to  help  you." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Landry.     "  You  have  behaved 

like  an  angel,  and  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  reproach 

you.     Forgive  me,  Fanchon,  and  let  me  love  you  in 

my  own   way.     Perhaps  it  will  not  be  so  calm   an 

148 


FADETTE  149 

affection  as  I  have  for  my  twin  brother,  or  my  sister 
Nanette,  but  I  promise  not  to  try  and  kiss  you  again 
if  you  don't  like  it."  And  with  a  sudden  change  of 
sentiment,  Landry  fancied  that  little  Fadette's  affec- 
tion for  him  was  really  a  very  moderate  one,  and  as 
he  was  neither  vain  nor  boastful,  he  felt  as  shy  and 
timid  in  her  presence  as  if  he  had  not  heard  with  his 
own  two  ears  what  she  had  said  about  him  to  Made- 
Ion.  As  for  little  Fadette,  she  was  clever  enough  to  see, 
at  last,  that  Landry  was  over  head  and  ears  in  love 
with  her,  and  her  momentary  faintness  had  been 
caused  by  excess  of  pleasure  at  this  discovery.  But 
she  was  afraid  that  a  happiness  so  quickly  won 
might  be  very  short-lived.  It  was  this  fear  which  led 
her  to  wish  to  give  Landry  time  to  conceive  a  strong 
desire  for  her  love.  He  stayed  with  her  till  dark  ;  for, 
though  he  no  longer  dared  make  love  to  her,  he  took 
such  pleasure  in  looking  at  her  and  hearing  her 
speak  that  he  could  not  bear  to  leave  her  a  moment. 
He  played  with  the  Grasshopper,  who  was  never  far 
away  from  his  sister,  and  who  soon  came  and  joined 
them.  He  was  good  to  him,  and  soon  saw  that 
the  poor  little  thing,  whom  everybody  ill-treated,  was 
neither  silly  nor  naughty  with  those  who  were  kind  to 
him.  Indeed,  at  the  end  of  an  hour,  he  was  so  far 
civilized  and  so  grateful,  that  he  kissed  the  twin's 
hands,  and  called  him  dear  Landry  just  as  he  called 
his  sister  dear  Fanchon.  Landry  was  touched  and 
pitied  him,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  and  every- 
body else  had  neglected  their  duty  toward  these 


150  FADETTE 

poor  children  of  Mother  Fadefs,  who  only  needed  a 
little  of  the  love  which  other  youngsters  get,  to  be- 
come better  than  any  of  them.  The  few  succeeding 
days  Landry  managed  to  see  little  Fadette,  sometimes 
in  the  evening,  when  he  had  a  chance  to  have  a  little 
chat  with  her,  and  sometimes  in  the  daytime,  when 
he  happened  to  meet  her  in  the  fields ;  and  though 
she  was  not  able  to  stop  long,  as  she  would  not  and 
could  not  neglect  her  work,  he  was  glad  of  the  op- 
portunity to  say  a  few  words  to  her,  straight  from  his 
heart,  and  to  devour  her  with  his  eyes.  And  she  con- 
tinued to  dress  herself  neatly,  and  to  talk  and  behave 
nicely  to  everybody,  so  that  it  attracted  notice,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  people  began  to  treat  her  very 
differently.  As  she  no  longer  did  anything  out  of 
the  way,  she  was  no  longer  insulted,  and  when  she 
saw  that,  she  no  longer  felt  any  temptation  to  use 
bad  language  or  annoy  anybody.  But  as  public 
opinion  is  slower  to  change  than  our  own  resolutions, 
some  time  was  required  to  transform  into  esteem  and 
approval  the  contempt  and  dislike  which  had  been 
the  general  feeling  toward  her.  You  shall  hear  later 
how  this  change  came  about.  But  for  the  present, 
you  may  imagine  that  nobody  placed  much  confi- 
dence in  little  Fadette's  reformation.  Four  or  five  of 
those  good  old  men  and  women,  who  are  lenient  in 
their  judgment  of  young  people  growing  up  around 
them,  and  who  act  the  part  of  fathers  and  mothers  to 
the  whole  neighborhood,  sometimes  met  to  have  a 
chat  under  the  walnut  trees  of  La  Cosse,  and  watch 


FADETTE  151 

the  youngsters  swarming  around  them,  dancing  and 
playing  quoits.  And  these  old  people  would  say : 

"  So-and-so  will  make  a  fine  soldier  if  he  keeps  on, 
for  he  is  too  well  built  to  be  exempted  from  service ; 
that  boy  will  be  clever  and  sharp  like  his  father ;  that 
one  over  there  will  be  as  intelligent  and  even-tem- 
pered as  his  mother;  that  young  Lucette  will  cer- 
tainly make  a  good  farm  servant.  Big  Louise  will 
have  plenty  of  admirers,  and  as  for  little  Marion, 
she'll  have  as  much  sense  as  the  others  by  the  time 
she  is  grown  up." 

And  when  it  came  little  Fadette's  turn  to  be  criti- 
cised and  have  judgment  passed  on  her,  they  said  : 

"  Look  at  her  hurry  past,  without  stopping  to  sing 
or  dance.  We  haven't  seen  anything  of  her  since 
St.  Andoche's  Day.  It  must  be  that  she  was  dread- 
fully shocked  when  the  children  from  hereabouts 
pulled  off  her  cap  in  the  dance,  so  she  has  altered  her 
helmet  and  now  she  looks  as  well  as  anybody." 

u  Have  you  noticed  how  much  fairer  her  skin  has 
grown  lately  ? "  said  Mother  Couturier,  one  day. 
"  Her  face  used  to  be  so  covered  with  freckles  that  it 
looked  like  a  quail's  egg,  and  the  last  time  I  saw  her 
close  by  I  was  astonished  to  see  how  white  she  was. 
She  even  looked  so  pale  that  I  asked  her  if  she  had 
had  the  fever.  Judging  from  present  appearances,  it 
really  looks  as  if  she  might  continue  to  improve,  and, 
who  can  tell  —  many  an  ugly  girl  turns  out  to  be  pretty 
by  the  time  she  is  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  old." 

"And  then  they  come  to  have  some  sense,"  said 


152  FADETTE 

Father  Naubin,  "and  a  girl  learns  to  make  her- 
self attractive  and  agreeable.  It  is  high  time  for 
the  Cricket  to  realize  that  she  is  not  a  boy.  Good 
heavens!  We  all  thought  she'd  turn  out  a  perfect 
disgrace  to  the  place.  But  she'll  settle  down  and 
come  out  all  right  like  the  others.  She  will  feel  that 
she  must  behave  herself  so  that  people  will  forget 
that  she  had  such  a  good-for-nothing  mother,  and 
you'll  see,  she  won't  get  herself  talked  about." 

"  God  grant  that  she  may,"  said  Mother  Courtillet ; 
"  for  it  is  a  pity  to  -see  a  girl  look  like  a  runaway 
horse.  But  I  have  some  hopes  of  Fadette ;  for  I  met 
her  yesterday,  and  instead  of  hobbling  along  behind 
me  as  usual,  imitating  my  limp,  she  said  good-morning 
and  asked  after  my  health  as  nicely  as  anybody." 

"  That  little  girl  you  are  all  talking  about  is  more 
wild  than  bad,"  said  Father  Henri ;  "  she  has  a  good 
heart,  I  can  tell  you,  for  she  has  often  taken  my 
grandchildren  out  to  the  fields  with  her,  just  to  relieve 
my  daughter,  when  she  was  ill ;  and  she  took  such 
good  care  of  them  that  they  wanted  to  stay  with  her." 

"  They  tell  me,"  said  Father  Couturier,  "  that  one 
of  Father  Barbeau's  twins  fell  in  love  with  her  on  St. 
Andoche's  Day.  Is  it  true?" 

"Nonsense!"  answered  Father  Naubin.  "You 
mustn't  place  any  faith  in  that  story.  It  was  only  a 
childish  fancy,  and  the  Barbeaus  are  no  fools, — 
children  or  parents,  —  let  me  tell  you," 

And  so  they  talked  about  little  Fadette,  but  nobody 
thought  of  her  very  often  ;  for  they  hardly  ever  saw  her. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

BUT  there  was  one  person  who  saw  her  very  often, 
and  was  greatly  interested  in  her,  and  that  was  Lan- 
dry  Barbeau.  He  was  beside  himself  when  he  could 
not  manage  to  get  a  few  words  with  her,  but  as  soon 
as  he  was  in  her  presence  a  moment,  he  was  soothed 
and  contented ;  for  she  talked  sensibly  to  him,  and 
sympathized  with  his  feelings.  Perhaps  her  treatment 
of  him  was  not  altogether  free  from  coquetry,  —  at  least, 
so  it  seemed  to  him  ;  but  as  her  motive  was  honorable, 
and  she  would  not  allow  him  to  make  love  to  her,  till 
she  had  duly  considered  the  matter,  he  had  no  right 
to  complain.  She  could  not  suspect  him  of  trying  to 
deceive  her  as  to  the  ardor  of  his  affection  for  her ; 
for  it  was  such  love  as  is  not  often  found  among  coun- 
try people,  who  are  less  impulsive  and  passionate 
than  the  dwellers  in  cities.  Indeed  Landry  was  by 
nature  rather  more  than  usually  phlegmatic,  and  no- 
body could  have  foreseen  that  he  would  singe  his  wings 
so  severely.  His  secret  was  carefully  hidden,  and  it 
would  have  been  a  great  surprise  to  any  one  who  had 
discovered  it.  But  Fadette,  seeing  that  he  had  given 
his  heart  to  her  so  suddenly  and  unreservedly,  was 
afraid  that  it  might  be  only  a  flash  in  the  pan,  or  that 
153 


154  FADETTE 

her  own  feelings  might  become  more  interested  than 
was  seemly  for  two  children,  not  yet  of  marriageable 
age,  at  least  according  to  the  judgment  of  their 
parents  and  the  dictates  of  prudence ;  for  love  is 
impatient  of  delay,  and  when  it  is  once  kindled  in  the 
hearts  of  two  youngsters,  it  is  a  miracle,  indeed,  if  it 
waits  for  the  approval  of  others. 

But  little  Fadette,  who  had  always  seemed  younger 
than  she  really  was,  had  plenty  of  sense,  and  a  power 
of  will  far  in  advance  of  her  age.  She  must  have 
had  extraordinary  strength  of  mind  to  produce  this 
result ;  for  hers  was  a  passionate  nature,  —  more  so, 
indeed,  than  Landry's.  She  was  desperately  in  love 
with  him,  and  yet  she  behaved  with  remarkable  dis- 
cretion ;  for  though  she  thought  of  him  constantly, 
day  and  night,  and  longed  to  see  him  and  caress 
him,  she  controlled  herself  as  soon  as  she  saw  him, 
talked  calmly  and  sensibly  to  him,  even  pretending 
that  she  did  not  know  what  it  was  to  love  passion- 
ately, and  allowing  him  simply  to  shake  hands  with 
her. 

And  Landry,  who  was  so  greatly  infatuated  with 
her  that,  when  he  was  alone  with  her  in  secluded 
places  or  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  he  might  so 
far  have  forgotten  himself  as  to  refuse  to  obey  her, 
was  nevertheless  so  afraid  of  her  displeasure,  and 
so  uncertain  that  she  really  loved  him,  that  he  was 
on  as  innocent  terms  with  her  as  if  she  had  been 
his  sister,  and  he  Jeanet,  the  little  Grasshopper. 

Fadette,  to  turn  his  attention  frpm  ideas  which  she 


FADETTE  155 

did  not  wish  to  encourage,  tried  to  teach  him  all  the 
things  she  knew,  and  her  intelligence  and  natural 
ability  had  carried  her  far  beyond  her  grandmother's 
instructions.  She  did  not  try  to  keep  up  any  appear- 
ance of  mystery  with  Landry,  and  as  he  had  always 
had  a  fear  of  witchcraft,  she  tried  her  best  to  make 
him  understand  that  the  devil  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  secrets  of  her  science. 

"  Pshaw,  Landry,"  she  said  to  him  one  day,  "  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  the  intervention  of  the  evil  spirit. 
There  is  only  one  spirit,  and  that  is  a  good  one ;  for 
it  is  the  spirit  of  God.  Lucifer  is  an  invention  of  the 
Cure's,  and  the  Old  Nick  is  an  old  wife's  tale.  When 
I  was  a  little  thing,  I  believed  in  all  those  stories  and 
stood  in  great  awe  of  my  grandmother's  evil  spells, 
but  she  laughed  me  out  of  it ;  for,  to  tell  the  truth, 
those  who  doubt  everything  are  the  ones  who  try 
to  impose  on  others,  and  nobody  has  less  faith  in 
the  devil  than  the  witches  themselves,  though  they 
are  always  invoking  him  on  all  occasions.  They 
know  well  enough  that  they  have  never  seen  him 
or  received  the  slightest  aid  from  him.  Those  who 
are  so  silly  as  to  believe  in  him  and  try  to  call  him 
up,  have  never  succeeded  in  getting  him  to  appear. 
For  instance,  there  was  the  miller  of  Passe-aux-chiens, 
who,  as  my  grandmother  told  me,  used  to  go  to  a 
place  where  four  roads  meet,  carrying  a  big  cudgel, 
and  there  he  would  summon  the  devil,  intending  to 
give  him  a  sound  thrashing.  And  they  heard  him 
shouting  in  the  night,  'Are  you  coming,  you  devil? 


156  FADETTE 

Are  you  coming,  mad  dog?  Are  you  coming,  Old 
Nick?'  But  no  Old  Nick  ever  made  his  appearance. 
So  the  miller  was  quite  eaten  up  with  vanity,  for  he 
thought  the  devil  was  afraid  of  him." 

"  But,  my  little  Fanchon,"  said  Landry,  "  it  isn't 
exactly  Christian  not  to  believe  in  the  devil." 

"  I  can't  argue  about  it,"  said  she  ;  "  but  if  he  does 
exist,  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  has  no  power  to  come 
on  earth  and  do  us  any  harm  or  steal  away  our  souls 
from  God.  He  could  never  have  the  insolence  to  do 
that,  and  since  the  earth  is  the  Lord's,  He  alone  can 
govern  the  men  and  things  which  dwell  on  it." 

So  Landry  laid  aside  his  foolish  fears,  and  could 
not  help  wondering  to  see  little  Fadette  so  good  a 
Christian  in  all  her  ways  of  thinking,  and  in  her 
prayers.  Indeed  her  piety  took  a  more  attractive 
form  than  that  of  other  people.  She  loved  God  with 
all  the  fervor  of  her  nature  ;  for  her  keen  intelligence 
and  her  tender  heart  were  apparent  in  everything  she 
did.  When  she  spoke  to  Landry  of  this  love,  he  was 
amazed  to  discover  that  he  had  been  taught  to  repeat 
certain  prayers  and  practise  certain  observances  with- 
out the  remotest  idea  of  their  meaning,  and  that 
though  he  had -always  treated  sacred  things  with 
reverence  from  a  sense  of  duty,  his  heart  had  never 
glowed  with  love  for  his  Creator  as  little  Fadette's 
did. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN  his  walks  and  talks  with  her,  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  properties  of  herbs,  and  with  all 
sorts  of  recipes  for  curing  man  and  beast.  He  soon 
tried  the  effect  of  one  of  the  latter  on  one  of  Father 
Caillaud's  cows,  which  had  eaten  too  much  green 
food,  and  was  swollen  up  with  the  colic.  As  the 
veterinary  had  given  her  up,  saying  that  she  could 
not  live  an  hour,  Landry  gave  her  a  potion  which 
little  Fadette  had  taught  him  to  prepare.  He  told 
nobody  what  he  had  done,  and  the  next  morning 
when  the  workmen  —  very  sorry  for  the  loss  of  so 
fine  a  cow  —  came  to  bury  her,  they  found  her  stand- 
ing up,  beginning  to  sniff  at  her  food  ;  her  eyes  were 
bright  and  the  swelling  had  almost  entirely  disap- 
peared. Another  time,  a  colt  was  bitten  by  a  viper, 
and  Landry,  still  following  the  directions  of  little 
Fadette,  cured  it  in  short  order.  Finally,  he  had  an 
opportunity  of  trying  the  antidote  for  hydrophobia 
on  one  of  the  La  Priche  dogs,  who  got  well  before  he 
had  bitten,  anybody.  As  Landry  did  his  best  to  hide 
his  intimacy  with  little  Fadette,  he  did  not  boast  of 
his  skill,  and  the  cure  of  his  cattle  was  attributed  to 
the  care  which  he  took  of  them.  But  Father  Cail- 
laud,  who  had  a  good  knowledge  of  veterinary  prac- 
tice, like  all  good  farmers,  was  surprised,  and  said : 
'57 


158  FADETTE 

"  Father  Barbeau  has  no  special  talent  for  cattle- 
raising,  and  hasn't  even  very  good  luck  at  it ;  for  he 
lost  several  fine  cattle  last  year,  and  that,  not  for  the 
first  time.  But  Landry  has  the  knack  of  it,  and  that 
is  something  one  is  born  with.  You  have  it  or  you 
don't  have  it ;  and  even  if  one  should  go  and  study 
in  the  schools  as  the  veterinary  surgeons  do,  it  is  no 
use  unless  it  is  born  in  you.  Now,  I  tell  you,  Landry 
is  clever,  and  so  he  finds  out  what  remedies  to  use. 
It  is  a  great  gift  which  nature  has  bestowed  on  him, 
and  it  will  be  worth  more  than  capital  to  him  in  the 
management  of  a  farm." 

Father  Caillaud's  opinion  was  not  that  of  a  credu- 
lous or  ignorant  man,  only  he  was  mistaken  when  he 
took  it  for  granted  that  Landry's  skill  was  a  gift  of 
nature.  Landry  had  no  gift,  save  carefulness  and 
intelligence  in  the  use  of  the  prescriptions  which 
had  been  taught  him.  Still  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  a  natural  gift,  for  little  Fadette  had  it ;  and  with 
the  few  simple  lessons  which  she  had  received  from 
her  grandmother,  she  recognized  the  salutary  proper- 
ties which  God  has  bestowed  on  certain  plants,  which 
are  to  be  employed  in  special  ways,  and  showed  as 
much  readiness  as  if  she  had  discovered  them  her- 
self. She  told  the  truth  when  she  declared  that  she 
never  resorted  to  witchcraft ;  but  she  was  very  ob- 
serving, and  made  experiments,  drew  inferences,  no- 
ticed, and  made  comparisons,  and  nobody  can  deny 
that  this  is  a  natural  gift.  Father  Caillaud  went  still 
further,  —  he  was  of  the  opinion  that  there  are  some 


FADETTE  159 

herdsmen  and  laborers  who  are  more  or  less  lucky 
than  others,  and  that  the  very  presence  of  such  peo- 
ple in  the  stable,  benefits  or  injures  the  animals. 
However,  as  there  is  always  a  little  truth  in  the 
greatest  delusions,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that 
good  care,  cleanliness,  and  conscientious  labor  will 
succeed,  where  negligence  or  stupidity  will  cause 
disaster. 

Landry's  tastes  had  always  run  in  that  direction. 
His  love  for  Fadette  was  increased  by  the  gratitude 
which  he  felt  for  the  information  which  she  had  given 
him,  and  the  respect  which  her  talents  and  clever- 
ness inspired.  He  was  thankful  enough  to  her  now 
for  frowning  down  his  love-making  in  their  walks 
and  talks ;  and  he  saw,  too,  that  she  had  her  lover's 
interests  and  improvement  more  at  heart  than  the 
pleasure  she  might  have  experienced  if  she  had 
allowed  him  to  court  and  flatter  her  as  he  had  at 
first  wished  to  do.  Landry  was  soon  so  much  in 
love  that  he  was  no  longer  ashamed  to  have  it  known 
that  he  had  given  his  heart  to  a  girl  who  had  the 
reputation  of  being  ugly,  ill-tempered,  and  badly 
brought  up.  If  he  still  observed  any  precautions,  it 
was  on  account  of  his  twin  brother,  whose  jealous 
disposition  was  well  known  to  him,  and  who  had  been 
obliged  to  make  a  great  effort  to  resign  himself  to 
Landry's  fancy  for  Madelon,  —  a  very  mild  and  tame 
affair  in  comparison  with  what  he  now  felt  for  Fanchon 
Fadet. 

But  if  Landry  was  too  eager  in  his  love  to  think  of 


160  FADETTE 

prudence,  little  Fadette,  on  the  other  hand,  had  a 
natural  fondness  for  mystery.  Besides  that,  she  did 
not  want  to  expose  him  to  being  teased  about  her. 
Little  Fadette,  in  short,  loved  him  too  well  to  wish  to 
make  trouble  between  him  and  his  family,  and  enjoined 
upon  him  such  secrecy  that  it  was  almost  a  year  be- 
fore anybody  suspected  that  there  was  anything  be- 
tween them.  Landry  had  cured  Sylvinet  of  prying 
into  his  affairs,  and  that  part  of  the  country,  which  is 
sparsely  inhabited  and  thickly  wooded,  affords  many 
facilities  for  lovers  to  meet  in  secret.  Sylvinet,  seeing 
that  Landry  no  longer  gave  a  thought  to  Madelon, 
though  he  had  brought  himself  to  regard  sharing  his 
brother's  affection  with  her  as  a  necessary  evil,  made 
more  endurable  by  Landry's  bashfulness  and  the  girl's 
prudence,  was  rejoiced  to  find  that  Landry  was  in  no 
hurry  to  withdraw  his  affection  from  his  brother,  to 
bestow  it  on  a  woman,  and,  being  no  longer  jealous, 
he  left  him  more  free  to  do  what  he  liked  and  go 
where  he  pleased  on  fete  days  and  holy  days.  Lan- 
dry found  plenty  of  pretexts  for  coming  and  going, 
especially  on  Sunday  evenings,  when  he  left  the  Twin- 
nery  early,  and  did  not  go  home  to  La  Priche  till 
almost  midnight.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  in ; 
for  he  had  persuaded  them  to  let  him  have  a  little 
bed  in  the  Capharnion.1  You  will  perhaps  take  me 

1  Capharnion.  This  word  with  its  correct  spelling,  Caphar- 
naum,  is  much  used  in  France.  Capharnaum  or  Capernaum 
was  a  large  commercial  town  in  Judea,  hence  its  vulgar  mean- 


FADETTE  161 

up  on  this  word,  for  the  schoolmaster  objects  to  it 
and  insists  on  calling  it  Capharnium ;  but  however 
much  he  may  know  about  the  word,  he  knows  nothing 
about  the  thing,  for  I  had  to  explain  to  him  that  it 
was  that  part  of  a  barn,  near  the  stables,  where  they 
keep  the  yokes,  chains,  horseshoes,  and  all  sorts  of 
utensils  used  for  the  farm  animals,  and  for  the  culti- 
vation of  the  land.  So  Landry  could  go  home  at  any 
hour  he  pleased  without  waking  anybody,  and  he 
always  had  all  day  Sunday  to  himself  and  till  Mon- 
day morning,  because  Father  Caillaud  and  his  eldest 
son,  who  were  both  very  steady  men  and  never  fre- 
quented wine  shops  or  drank  to  excess  on  holidays, 
were  in  the  habit  of  assuming  all  the  care  and  man- 
agement of  the  farm  on  such  occasions,  in  order,  said 
they,  that  all  the  young  people  of  the  establishment, 
who  worked  harder  than  they  did  during  the  week, 
might  be  free  to  frolic  and  amuse  themselves,  as  our 
good  Lord  intended  them  to  do. 

And  in  the  winter  time,  when  the  nights  are  so  cold 
that  love-making  would  have  been  very  uncomfort- 
able in  the  open  air,  Landry  and  little  Fadette  found  a 
safe  shelter  in  the  Jacot  Tower,  an  old  deserted  dove- 
cote, which  the  pigeons  had  abandoned  years  ago, 
but  which  was  still  sound  and  weather-tight.  It  was 
attached  to  Father  Caillaud's  farm,  and  he  used  it 
even  still  for  storing  his  surplus  crops.  As  Landry  kept 


ing,  a  place  where  many  things  are  stored.     Littre,  Diet,  de  la 
langue  franfaise. 
M 


162  FADETTE 

the  key  and  the  dove-cote  stood  on  the  border  of  the 
La  Priche  property,  not  far  from  the  Roulettes  ford, 
and  in  the  middle  of  a  walled  field  of  luzerne  grass,  it 
would  have  puzzled  the  devil  himself  to  discover  the 
rendezvous  of  this  pair  of  young  lovers.  When  the 
weather  was  mild,  they  wandered  about  the  groves  of 
young  trees,  fit  for  cutting,  which  are  numerous  in 
this  part  of  the  country.  They  form  admirable  hid- 
ing-places for  thieves  and  lovers,  and  as  we  have  no 
thieves  among  us,  only  the  lovers  avail  themselves  of 
their  shelter,  and  find  themselves  undisturbed  and 
free  from  annoyance. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

BUT  as  secrecy  cannot  be  maintained  forever,  it 
happened  that,  as  Sylvinet  was  passing  along  by  the 
cemetery  wall,  one  fine  Sunday,  he  heard  the  voice  of 
his  twin,  a  few  steps  away  from  him.  Landry's  tones 
were  low,  but  Sylvinet  was  so  well  acquainted  with 
his  voice  that  he  could  have  guessed  what  he  was 
talking  about,  even  if  he  had  not  heard  a  single 
word. 

'-  Why  won't  you  come  and  dance  ?  "  said  he  to  a 
person  whom  Sylvinet  could  not  see.  "  It  is  so  long 
since  you  have  been  seen  to  stay  after  Mass,  that 
nobody  will  think  anything  of  it  if  I  dance  with  you, 
as  I  am  supposed  to  be  only  slightly  acquainted  with 
you.  They  will  not  think  that  I  do  it  for  love  of  you, 
but  for  politeness1  sake,  and  because  I  want  to  see 
whether  you  have  forgotten  how  to  dance." 

"  No,  Landry,  no,"  answered  a  voice  which  Syl- 
vinet did  not  recognize,  because  it  was  so  long  since 
he  had  heard  it,  little  Fadette  having  kept  herself  so 
aloof  from  everybody,  and  particularly  from  him. 

"  No,"  said   she,  "  it  is  better  that  I    should  not 

attract   attention,  and  if  you  danced  with  me  once, 

you   would   want   to   do   it   every  Sunday,   and  that 

would   be  more  than   enough   to   make   people  talk 

163 


164  FADETTE 

about  us.  Believe  what  I  have  always  told  you, 
Landry, —  the  day  when  our  love  is  discovered,  our 
troubles  will  begin.  Let  me  go,  and  after  you  have 
spent  a  part  of  the  day  with  your  family  and  your 
twin  brother,  you  may  come  and  meet  me  at  the 
place  which  we  agreed  upon." 

"  But  it  is  so  melancholy  never  to  dance,"  said 
Landry ;  "  you  used  to  be  so  fond  of  dancing,  darling, 
and  you  danced  so  well !  How  delighted  I  should 
be  to  take  you  by  the  hand,  and  whirl  you  about  in 
my  arms,  and  to  see  you  dance  with  nobody  but  me, 
—  you  who  are  so  graceful  and  light-footed  !  " 

"  That  is  just  what  I  must  not  do,"  answered  she. 
"  But  I  see  that  you  are  longing  to  dance,  my  dear 
Landry,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
give  it  up.  Go  and  dance  a  little  !  I  shall  be  glad 
to  know  that  you  are  enjoying  yourself,  and  I  shall 
wait  for  you  as  patiently  as  possible." 

"  Oh,  you  have  too  much  patience !  "  said  Landry,  in 
a  voice  which  was  indicative  of  a  very  slender  supply 
of  that  virtue ;  "  but  I  would  rather  have  my  legs  cut 
off  than  dance  with  girls  I  do  not  like,  and  whom 
I  wouldn't  kiss  for  a  hundred  francs." 

"  Well,  if  I  should  dance,"  answered  little  Fadette, 
"  I  could  not  help  dancing  with  other  young  men 
beside  you,  and  I  should  have  to  let  them  kiss  me 
too." 

"  Go  home  then,  go  home,  as  quick  as  you  can  ! " 
said  Landry ;  "  I  don't  want  anybody  to  kiss  you." 

Sylvinet  heard  nothing  further  except  the  sound  of 


FADETTE  165 

retreating  footsteps,  and  he  slipped  quickly  into  the 
cemetery  and  let  his  brother  pass;  for  he  did  not 
want  to  be  caught  eavesdropping  by  him. 

This  discovery  was  like  a  stab  in  the  heart  to  Syl- 
vinet.  He  did  not  try  to  find  out  what  girl  it  was 
with  whom  Landry  was  so  desperately  in  love.  It 
was  enough  for  him  to  know  that  there  was  a  person 
for  whose  sake  Landry  was  willing  to  give  him  up, 
to  whom  he  devoted  all  his  thought,  so  that  he  no 
longer  told  his  twin  brother  everything  which  con- 
cerned him. 

"  He  must  have  lost  confidence  in  me,"  thought  he, 
"and  this  girl  of  whom  he  is  so  fond  must  put  it  into 
his  head  to  fear  and  dislike  me.  I  am  not  surprised 
now,  that  he  is  always  so  bored  at  home,  and  so  rest- 
less when  I  go  out  to  walk  with  him.  I  gave  it  up, 
thinking  that  he  would  rather  be  alone,  but  now  I 
shall  be  very  careful  not  to  annoy  him.  I  shall  not 
say  anything  to  him,  for  he  would  be  angry  with  me 
for  finding  out  what  he  did  not  want  me  to  know.  I 
shall  be  the  only  sufferer  and  he  will  be  glad  to  get 
rid  of  me." 

Sylvinet  kept  his  resolution,  and  even  went  farther 
than  necessary ;  for  not  only  did  he  give  up  all  attempt 
to  keep  his  brother  with  him,  but,  in  order  to  leave 
him  free  to  do  just  as  he  chose,  he  was  always  the 
first  to  leave  the  house,  and  went  wandering  about 
the  orchard,  never  going  out  into  the  field,  saying  to 
himself: 

"  If  I   should   happen   to  meet  Landry,  he  might 


166  FADETTE 

think  that  I  was  watching  him,  and  would  let  me 
know  that  he  thought  me  a  nuisance." 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that,  by  degrees,  his  old 
trouble,  which  had  been  almost  cured,  took  such  firm 
and  obstinate  hold  on  him,  that  it  soon  betrayed 
itself  in  his  face.  His  mother  reproved  him  gently, 
but,  as  he  was  ashamed  to  own  that  he  was  as  childish 
at  eighteen  as  he  had  been  three  years  earlier,  he 
would  not  confess  what  was  troubling  him. 

This  saved  him  from  an  illness  ;  for  our  good  Lord 
never  deserts  those  who  try  to  help  themselves,  and 
he  who  has  the  courage  to  keep  his  troubles  to  him- 
self is  more  able  to  bear  them  than  he  who  utters  a 
complaint.  The  poor  twin  began  to  look  pale  and 
sad  all  the  time ;  he  had  an  occasional  attack  of 
fever,  and  as  he  was  not  done  growing  he  continued 
to  be  quite  slender  and  delicate.  He  could  not  work 
very  steadily,  but  that  was  not  his  fault ;  for  he  knew 
that  work  was  good  for  him.  It  was  bad  enough  to 
worry  his  father  by  his  melancholy,  —  he  did  not 
want  to  irritate  and  wrong  him  by  his  listlessness. 
So  he  went  to  work,  and  worked  all  the  harder  be- 
cause he  was  out  of  patience  with  himself.  So  he 
often  exceeded  his  strength,  and  was  so  tired  the  next 
day  that  he  could  not  do  anything. 

"  He  will  never  make  a  stout  worker,"  said  Father 
Barbeau,  "  but  he  does  the  best  he  can,  and  does  not 
spare  himself  even  when  he  might  do  so.  That 
is  the  reason  why  I  do  not  want  to  hire  him  out ; 
for  between  his  dread  of  a  scolding,  and  the  small 


FADETTE  167 

amount  of  strength  which  God  has  given  him,  he 
would  be  sure  to  kill  himself,  and  I  should  reproach 
myself  for  it  the  rest  of  my  life." 

Mother  Barbeau  took  the  same  view  of  the  matter 
which  he  did,  and  tried  her  best  to  cheer  up  Sylvinet. 
She  consulted  several  doctors  in  regard  to  his  health, 
and  some  of  them  told  her  to  take  great  care  of  him 
and  let  him  drink  nothing  but  milk,  because  he 
was  delicate,  while  others  said  to  keep  him  at  work 
and  give  him  good  wine,  because,  being  delicate, 
he  needed  strengthening.  Mother  Barbeau  did  not 
know  which  to  believe,  which  is  always  the  case 
when  one  has  too  many  advisers. 

As  she  could  not  come  to  a  decision,  she  fortu- 
nately did  nothing,  and  Sylvinet  kept  on  in  the  way 
which  the  good  Lord  had  laid  out  for  him,  without 
meeting  anything  to  turn  him  either  to  the  right  or  to 
the  left,  and  he  bore  his  little  cross  and  did  not  break 
down  utterly  under  his  trial,  up  to  the  time  when 
Landry's  love-affair  was  made  public,  and  Sylvinet's 
distress  was  increased  by  the  sight  of  his  brother's 
suffering:. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

MADELON  was  the  first  to  discover  the  secret,  and 
she  made  a  bad  use  of  her  knowledge,  which  she  had 
happened  upon  quite  by  accident.  She  had  long  ago 
consoled  herself  for  Landry's  desertion,  and  as  she 
had  not  wasted  much  time  loving  him,  it  did  not  take 
her  long  to  forget  him.  However,  she  still  bore  him 
a  little  grudge,  which  only  needed  an  opportunity  to 
show  itself,  —  so  true  it  is  that  a  woman^  pique  out- 
lives her  liking. 

This  is  the  way  the  thing  came  about.  Pretty 
Madelon,  who  was  celebrated  for  her  discretion  and 
high  and  mighty  airs  with  boys,  was  at  heart  a  genu- 
ine coquette,  and  not  half  so  faithful  and  sincere  in 
her  attachments  as  the  poor  Cricket,  of  whom  every- 
body spoke  and  prophesied  ill.  Madelon  had  already 
had  two  admirers,  not  counting  Landry,  and  now  had 
her  eye  on  a  third,  —  her  cousin,  the  youngest  son  of 
Father  Caillaud  de  La  Priche.  She  had  taken  so 
great  a  fancy  to  him  that  she  consented  to  accom- 
pany him  to  the  dove-cote  which  Landry  and  little 
Fadette  had  used  as  a  trysting-place  for  their  inno- 
cent love-making.  She  did  not  know  of  any  other 
place  where  she  could  have  a  private  interview  with 
her  new  sweetheart,  and  feared  an  outbreak  from  the 
1 68 


FADETTE  169 

last  man  she  had  encouraged,  for  she  was  aware  that 
he  was  watching  her. 

Young  Caillaud  had  made  a  great  search  for  the  key 
of  the  dove-cote,  but  without  success,  as  it  was  still  in 
Landry's  pocket ;  he  had  not  dared  ask  anybody  for 
it,  because  he  had  no  good  reasons  to  give  in  expla- 
nation. Nobody  but  Landry  cared  anything  about 
the  whereabouts  of  the  key,  and  so  young  Caillaud, 
taking  it  for  granted  that  it  must  be  lost,  or  that  his 
father  had  it  on  his  bunch,  determined  to  break  in 
the  door.  But  the  day  this  happened,  Landry  and 
Fadette  were  already  there,  and  the  two  pairs  of 
lovers  felt  so  silly,  when  they  found  themselves  face 
to  face,  that  they  were  all  equally  anxious  to  keep  the 
secret.  But  Madelon  was  so  angry  and  jealous  when 
she  saw  that  Landry  —  who  was  now  one  of  the  best- 
looking  and  most  promising  young  fellows  in  the 
neighborhood  —  had  remained  faithful  to  little  Fadette 
ever  since  St.  Andoche's  Day,  that  she  resolved  to 
have  her  revenge.  She  said  nothing  about  it  to 
young  Caillaud,  who  was  an  honest  man  and  would 
not  have  given  her  any  assistance,  but  she  took  into 
her  confidence  one  or  two  young  girls  of  her  acquaint- 
ance, who  were  also  rather  miffed  because  Landry 
never  asked  them  to  dance  any  more,  and  they  kept 
such  close  watch  on  little  Fadette  that  it  was  not 
long  before  they  found  out  all  about  her  intimacy 
with  Landry. 

After  seeing  them  together  two  or  three  times,  they 
noised  it  abroad  throughout  the  neighborhood,  telling 


170  FADETTE 

everybody  who  would  listen  to  them  —  and  Heaven 
knows  there  are  always  plenty  of  tongues  to  spread 
scandal,  and  ears  to  hearken  to  it  —  that  Landry  was 
on  very  familiar  terms  with  little  Fadette. 

Then  all  the  girls  took  it  up ;  for  when  a  good- 
looking  youngster  with  property  devotes  himself  to 
a  young  woman,  the  others  regard  it  as  an  insult  to 
their  charms,  and  they  will  miss  no  opportunity  of 
saying  something  disagreeable  about  her.  We  may 
add,  too,  that  when  women  undertake  to  spread  a 
piece  of  gossip,  it  flies  like  wildfire. 

So,  two  weeks  after  the  adventure  in  Jacofs  Tower, 
everybody,  little  and  big,  old  and  young,  knew  that 
Landry  the  twin  was  in  love  with  Fanchon  the  Cricket. 
There  was  no  mention  made  of  the  tower,  however,  or 
of  Madelon,  who  took  good  care  to  keep  in  the  back- 
ground, and  even  pretended  to  be  surprised  at  a  piece 
of  news  which  she  herself  had  been  the  first  to  set  in 
circulation. 

The  rumor  reached  the  ears  of  Mother  Barbeau, 
who  was  much  distressed,  and  hesitated  to  speak  to 
her  husband  on  the  subject.  But  Father  Barbeau 
heard  it  from  somebody  else,  and  Sylvinet,  who  had 
carefully  kept  his  brother's  secret,  was  worried  to  find 
out  that  everybody  knew  it. 

So  one  evening  when  Landry  was  about  to  leave 
the  Twinnery  rather  early,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
doing,  his  father  said  to  him,  in  the  presence  of  his 
mother,  his  elder  sister,  and  his  twin  brother : 

"  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  leave  us,  Landry,  —  I 


FADETTE  171 

have  something  to  say  to  you  ;  I'll  wait  till  your  god- 
father comes,  for  I  want  to  ask  you  for  an  explanation 
before  all  those  members  of  the  family  who  are  in- 
terested in  your  welfare."  When  the  godfather,  who 
was  Uncle  Landriche,  had  arrived,  Father  Barbeau 
began : 

"  What  I  am  about  to  say  will  be  rather  mortifying 
to  you,  Landry ;  indeed  I  am  myself  both  sorry  and 
ashamed  to  be  forced  to  question  you  before  the 
whole  family.  But  I  am  in  hopes  that  this  mortifica- 
tion will  do  you  good,  and  cure  you  of  a  fancy  which 
might  injure  you  very  much.  It  seems  that  you  have 
made  an  acquaintance  dating  back  to  last  St.  An- 
doche's  Day,  —  nearly  a  year  ago.  I  was  told  of  it 
at  the  time,  for  it  was  most  extraordinary  that  you 
should  dance  all  day  with  the  ugliest,  dirtiest,  and 
most  disreputable  girl  in  all  our  part  of  the  country. 
I  thought  best  to  take  no  notice  of  it,  thinking  that 
you  had  merely  done  it  by  way  of  amusement ;  I  did 
not  approve  of  such  behavior,  for  if  it  is  wrong  to 
associate  with  bad  people,  you  should  never  do  any- 
thing to  increase  their  degradation,  and  expose  them 
to  the  contempt  of  everybody.  I  neglected  saying 
anything  to  you  about  it,  thinking,  when  I  saw  how 
low-spirited  you  looked  the  next  day,  that  you  were 
sorry  for  what  you  had  done,  and  would  not  be  likely 
to  do  it  again.  But  now,  this  last  week,  I  hear  quite 
a  different  story,  and  although  the  report  comes  from 
reliable  people,  I  shall  not  believe  it  unless  you 
acknowledge  its  truth.  If  I  have  wronged  you  by  my 


172  FADETTE 

suspicions,  you  must  attribute  it  to  my  interest  in 
you,  and  to  the  fact  that  I  consider  it  my  duty  to  keep 
an  eye  on  you.  If  the  story  be  false,  I  shall  be  glad 
to  take  your  word  for  it,  and  it  will  be  a  relief  to  know 
that  you  have  been  slandered." 

"  Father,"  said  Landry,  "  will  you  be  good  enough 
to  tell  me  of  what  you  accuse  me  ?  I  will  answer  you 
truthfully  and  with  all  due  respect." 

"  I  think  I  have  already  told  you  enough  to  make 
you  understand,  Landry,  that  you  are  accused  of  im- 
proper relations  with  the  granddaughter  of  Mother 
Fadet,  who  is  bad  enough,  not  to  speak  of  the  unfor- 
tunate girl's  own  mother,  who  ran  away  from  her 
husband,  her  children,  and  her  native  place,  to  be  a 
camp-follower.  They  say  that  you  wander  about 
everywhere  with  little  Fadette,  which  makes  me  fear 
that  she  has  inveigled  you  into  some  disreputable 
love-affair,  which  you  may  regret  all  your  life  long. 
Now,  do  you  understand  ? " 

"  I  understand  perfectly,  my  dear  father,"  answered 
Landry ;  "  but  allow  me  to  ask  you  one  question  before 
I  answer  you.  Is  it  on  account  of  her  family  or  only 
on  her  own  account,  that  you  regard  Fanchon  Fadet 
as  an  undesirable  acquaintance  for  me  to  have  ?  " 

"  For  both  reasons,  of  course,"  answered  Father 
Barbeau,  with  rather  more  severity  than  he  had  shown 
at  the  beginning  of  the  conversation ;  for  he  had 
expected  to  find  Landry  very  humble  and  penitent, 
whereas  he  was  perfectly  calm  and  prepared  for  any- 
thing. "  In  the  first  place,"  said  he,  "  she  comes  of 


FADETTE  173 

very  disreputable  stock,  and  no  decent,  respectable 
family  like  mine  would  be  willing  to  connect  itself 
with  the  Fadets.  In  the  next  place,  nobody  has  any 
confidence  in  little  Fadette  herself,  or  any  respect 
for  her.  We  have  seen  her  grow  up  and  we  know 
all  about  her.  They  tell  me  —  and  indeed  I  have  no- 
ticed it  myself  two  or  three  times  —  that  for  the  past 
year  she  has  behaved  herself  better ;  that  she  has 
stopped  running  around  with  the  little  boys,  and  is  no 
longer  impudent  to  everybody  she  meets.  You  see 
that  I  want  to  be  perfectly  just,  but  that  does  not 
prevent  my  seeing  that  a  child  who  has  had  such  a 
bringing  up  can  never  make  a  decent  woman,  and 
knowing  her  grandmother  as  I  do,  I  have  every  rea- 
son to  believe  that  the  whole  affair  is  a  put-up  job  to 
entrap  you  into  making  promises  which  will  place  you 
in  a  very  mortifying  and  embarrassing  position.  Peo- 
ple even  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  girl  is  in  a  deli- 
cate situation.  I  am  not  willing  to  believe  this  on 
mere  hearsay,  but  if  it  should  turn  out  to  be  true,  you 
would  surely  be  suspected  and  it  might  result  in  a 
scandal  and  a  lawsuit." 

Landry,  who  from  the  first  word  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  be  on  his  guard  and  keep  his  temper,  now 
lost  all  patience.  He  turned  as  red  as  fire,  and  said, 
rising  from  his  seat : 

"  Father,  the  people  who  told  you  that,  lied  like 
dogs.  It  is  such  an  outrageous  insult  to  Fanchon 
Fadet,  that  if  I  had  them  here,  I  should  have  made 
them  take  back  their  words,  or  fight  it  out  with  me. 


174  FADETTE 

Tell  them  that  they  are  cowards  and  heathen, — just 
let  them  say  to  my  face  what  they  have  been  mean 
enough  to  insinuate  to  you  behind  my  back,  and  we'll 
see  how  it  will  turn  out." 

"  Don't  fly  into  such  a  rage,  Landry,"  said  Sylvinet, 
in  the  greatest  distress.  "  Father  does  not  mean  to 
accuse  you  of  ruining  the  girl ;  but  he  is  afraid  that 
she  may  have  been  imprudent  with  others,  and  now 
wants  to  make  it  appear,  by  hanging  around  you  all 
the  time,  that  she  has  some  claim  on  you." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

His  twin  brother's  voice  had  a  soothing  effect  on 
Landry,  but  he  could  not  allow  his  words  to  pass 
without  a  reply. 

"  Brother,"  said  he,  "  you  don't  know  anything  at 
all  about  it.  You  have  always  been  prejudiced  against 
little  Fadette,  and  you  don't  know  her  at  all.  I  care 
very  little  for  what  they  say  against  me,  but  I  will  not 
allow  them  to  talk  against  her,  and  I  want  my  father 
and  mother  to  know  that  there  isn't  another  girl  in 
the  world  so  modest,  so  sensible,  so  good,  and  so  un- 
selfish as  she  is.  If  she  is  so  unfortunate  as  to  have 
disreputable  relatives,  she  deserves  all  the  more  credit 
for  being  what  she  is ;  and  I  would  never  have  be- 
lieved it  possible  that  Christian  people  could  blame 
her  for  her  unfortunate  birth." 

"  You  seem  to  think  that  I  am  to  blame,  Landry," 
said  Father  Barbeau,  rising  too,  to  show  that  he  did 
not  wish  any  more  words  on  the  subject.  "  It  is  very 
plain  to  be  seen  that  you  are  more  interested  in  this 
Fadette  than  I  could  have  wished.  Since  you  are 
neither  sorry  nor  ashamed  of  what  you  have  done,  we 
will  say  no  more  about  it.  I  shall  think  over  what  I 
had  better  do,  to  save  you  from  the  consequences  of 
175 


176  FADETTE 

a  piece  of  youthful  folly.  And  now  you  had  better 
return  to  your  employer." 

"  You  must  not  go  off  like  that,"  said  Sylvinet,  de- 
taining his  brother,  who  was  about  to  leave.  "  Father, 
Landry  is  so  sorry  for  having  offended  you  that  he 
cannot  say  anything.  Forgive  him  and  kiss  him,  or 
he  will  cry  all  night  long,  and  your  displeasure  will 
be  a  greater  punishment  than  he  deserves." 

Sylvinet  was  crying,  Mother  Barbeau  was  crying, 
too,  and  so  were  the  elder  sister  and  Uncle  Landriche. 
Nobody's  eyes  were  dry  but  Father  Barbeau's  and 
Landry's  ;  but  their  hearts  were  full,  and  they  kissed 
each  other  as  the  rest  of  the  family  begged  them  to 
do.  The  father  did  not  exact  any  promise  from  his 
son,  knowing  that  such  promises  are  very  uncertain 
in  an  affair  of  this  kind,  and  not  wishing  to  run  any 
risk  of  being  disobeyed ;  but  he  gave  Landry  to  un- 
derstand that  the  matter  did  not  drop  there,  and  that 
he  should  take  it  up  again.  j 

Landry  went  away,  indignant  and  distressed.  Syl- 
vinet would  have  been  glad  to  follow  him,  but  he  did 
not  dare  do  so ;  for  he  took  it  for  granted  that  his 
brother  would  go  straight  to  little  Fadette  to  tell 
her  of  his  troubles,  and  he  went  to  bed  so  down- 
hearted that  he  did  nothing  but  sigh  all  night  and 
dream  that  some  dreadful  misfortune  had  overtaken 
the  family. 

Landry  went  to  little  Fadette's  and  knocked  at  the 
door.  Mother  Fadet  had  grown  so  deaf  that  nothing 
could  waken  her,  after  she  had  once  fallen  asleep,  and 


FADETTE  177 

ever  since  Landry  had  found  out  that  his  secret  was 
discovered,  he  could  not  get  a  chance  to  talk  to  Fan- 
chon,  excepting  at  night,  in  the  room  where  the  old 
woman  and  little  Jeanet  were  sleeping.  Even  then 
he  ran  a  great  risk ;  for  the  old  witch  could  not  bear 
him,  and  would  have  greeted  him  with  more  cuffs 
than  pretty  speeches.  Landry  told  all  his  troubles 
to  little  Fadette,  and  found  her  perfectly  resigned 
and  fearless.  At  first  she  tried  to  persuade  him 
that  it  would  be  better  for  him  to  think  no  more 
about  her.  But  when  she  saw  that  he  grew  more 
and  more  indignant  and  distressed,  she  urged  him 
to  submit,  telling  him  that  everything  would  turn 
out  all  right. 

"  Listen,  Landry,"  said  she ;  "  I  have  always  foreseen 
what  has  just  happened,  and  I  have  often  wondered 
what  we  should  do  in  such  a  case  as  the  present. 
Your  father  is  right  and  I  do  not  blame  him  at 
all ;  for  it  is  his  affection  for  you  which  makes  him 
dread  to  see  you  fall  in  love  with  a  girl  like  me. 
I  forgive  him  for  his  pride  and  for  being  rather 
unjust  to  me ;  for  we  can't  deny  that  I  was  as  wild 
as  a  hawk  when  I  was  little,  and  you  yourself  gave 
me  a  good  talking  to  the  day  you  fell  in  love  with 
me.  Even  if  I  have  cured  myself  of  some  of  my 
faults  the  past  year,  there  has  not  been  time  enough 
to  inspire  your  father  with  confidence  in  me,  as  he 
told  you  to-day.  We  must  wait  awhile  longer,  and 
by  degrees  the  prejudice  against  me  will  die  out, 
and  the  wicked  lies  they  are  telling  will  be  for- 

N 


178  FADETTE 

gotten.  Your  father  and  mother  will  see  that  I  am 
a  decent  girl,  and  that  I  am  not  trying  to  corrupt 
you  or  get  money  out  of  you.  They  will  do  justice 
to  the  sincerity  of  my  affection  for  you,  and  we 
shall  be  able  to  see  and  talk  to  each  other,  and 
nobody  will  object.  But  meanwhile  we  must  obey 
your  father,  who  will  forbid  your  visiting  me,  I  am 
sure." 

"  I  shall  never  have  the  courage  to  give  up  seeing 
you,"  said  Landry ;  "  I  would  rather  go  and  throw 
myself  into  the  river." 

"  Then  I  must  have  it  for  you,"  said  Fadette ;  "  I 
will  go  away,  I  will  leave  this  part  of  the  country 
for  a  little  while.  There  is  a  good  place  in  the 
city  which  has  been  waiting  for  me  for  the  last  two 
months.  My  grandmother  is  getting  so  old  and  so 
deaf  that  she  has  almost  given  up  making  and  sell- 
ing her  medicines,  and  cannot  hold  consultations  any 
more.  She  has  a  relative  —  a  very  good  woman  — 
who  has  offered  to  come  and  live  with  her,  and 
who  will  take  good  care  of  her  and  my  little  Grass- 
hopper—  " 

Little  Fadette's  voice  broke  down  a  moment  at  the 
thought  of  leaving  this  child,  whom,  next  to  Landry, 
she  loved  better  than  anything  in  the  world  ;  but  she 
mustered  up  courage  to  go  on  : 

"  He  is  strong  enough  now  to  get  along  without 
me.  He  is  going  to  make  his  first  communion,  and 
he  will  take  so  much  interest  in  going  to  catechism 
with  the  other  children,  that  he  will  forget  to  grieve 


FADETTE  179 

about  my  going  away.  You  must  have  noticed  how 
sensible  he  is  getting  to  be,  and  that  the  other  boys  do 
not  tease  him  as  much  as  they  used  to  do.  Now,  Lan- 
dry,  you  must  see  that  there  is  no  other  way.  People 
must  have  time  to  forget  me  a  little,  for  just  now 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  ill  feeling  against  me  in 
the  neighborhood.  When  I  come  back  again  after 
being  away  a  year  or  two,  and  bring  good  references 
and  an  unblemished  reputation,  which  I  can  gain  else- 
where more  easily  than  I  could  here,  they  will  stop 
tormenting  us,  and  we  shall  be  better  friends  than 
ever." 

Landry  would  not  listen  to  this  plan ;  he  was  quite 
overcome  with  grief,  and  went  back  to  La  Priche  in 
a  state  of  mind  which  would  have  moved  the  hardest 
heart  to  pity. 

Two  days  afterward,  as  he  was  taking  the  tub  to  the 
vintage,  young  Caillaud  said  to  him  : 

"  I  see  you  are  angry  with  me,  Landry,  and  it  is 
some  time  since  you  have  spoken  to  me.  You  prob- 
ably think  that  I  spread  abroad  the  report  of  your 
love-affair  with  little  Fadette,  and  I  am  sorry  that  you 
could  think  me  capable  of  such  a  piece  of  meanness. 
As  true  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  I  have  never 
breathed  a  single  word  on  the  subject,  and  I  am 
really  troubled  that  you  should  have  had  so  much 
to  worry  you ;  for  I  always  thought  a  good  deal  of 
you,  and  I  never  bothered  little  Fadette.  I'll  even 
say  that  I  respect  the  girl  for  what  happened  at 
the  dove-cote;  for  she  might  have  gossiped  if  she 


180  FADETTE 

had  chosen,  and  yet  she  has  held  her  tongue,  so  that 
nobody  knows  anything  about  it.  She  might  have 
made  use  of  what  she  knew,  if  only  to  revenge  her- 
self on  Madelon ;  for  she  must  know  well  enough 
who  has  started  all  these  stories.  But  she  hasn't 
done  it ;  and  I  see,  Landry,  that  it  isn't  safe  to  judge 
people  by  appearances  or  reputation.  Fadette,  who 
had  the  name  of  being  a  bad  girl,  has  turned  out 
to  be  very  kind-hearted.  Madelon,  who  was  con- 
sidered good,  has  acted  very  deceitfully,  not  only 
toward  Fadette  and  you,  but  toward  me,  too ;  for  she 
has  given  me  good  reason  to  doubt  her  fidelity  to  me." 

Landry  took  young  Caillaud's  explanation  in  good 
part,  and  the  latter  did  his  best  to  comfort  him  in  his 
trouble. 

"  You '  have  been  very  badly  treated,  my  poor 
Landry,"  said  he,  in  conclusion ;  "  but  little  Fadette's 
good  behavior  ought  to  be  a  great  source  of  consola- 
tion to  you.  It  is  good  of  her  to  go  away,  so  as  to 
put  an  end  to  the  trouble  in  your  family,  and  I  have 
just  told  her  so,  as  I  said  good-bye  to  her  when  she 
went  by." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  Caillaud  ?  "  exclaimed 
Landry.  "  Is  she  going  away?  Has  she  gone? " 

"  Didn't  you  know  it  ? "  said  Caillaud.  "  I  sup- 
posed that  you  had  settled  it  between  you,  and  that 
you  did  not  accompany  her  for  fear  of  making  people 
talk.  But  she's  going  away,  that  you  may  depend 
on.  She  passed  right  by  our  house,  not  more  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  and  she  had  her  little  bundle 


FADETTE  181 

under  her  arm.  She  was  going  to  Chateau  Meillant, 
and  she  cannot  be  farther  off  by  this  time  than 
Vielle  Ville  or  Ormont  Hill." 

Landry  left  his  goad  resting  against  the  straw  pad 
of  his  oxen,  —  started  off  and  never  stopped  till  he 
caught  up  with  little  Fadette,  in  the  sandy  road  which 
leads  down  from  the  Ormont  vineyard  to  Frenelaine. 

Then,  exhausted  by  grief  and  the  haste  with  which 
he  had  come,  he  fell  down  across  the  pathway,  un- 
able to  speak  a  word,  but  making  signs  to  her  that 
she  must  walk  over  his  prostrate  body  if  she  wished 
to  get  rid  of  him.  When  he  had  somewhat  recov- 
ered, Fadette  said  to  him  : 

"  I  wanted  to  save  you  this  grief,  Landry,  and  now 
you  are  doing  all  you  can  to  unnerve  me.  Be  a  man, 
and  do  not  break  down  my  spirit !  I  have  more  need 
of  courage  than  you  imagine,  and  when  I  think  of 
little  Jeanet  looking  for  me  and  crying  after  me  at 
this  very  moment,  my  strength  fails  me  so  that  I  am 
ready  to  dash  my  head  against  these  stones.  Ah,  I 
beg  of  you,  Landry,  help  me,  instead  of  trying  to 
make  me  forget  my  duty ;  for  if  I  don't  go  away 
to-day,  I  shall  never  go,  and  we  shall  be  ruined." 

"  Fanchon,  Fanchon!  you  have  no  such  great  need 
of  courage !  "  answered  Landry,  "  you  are  only  griev- 
ing after  a  child  who  will  soon  forget  you,  as  children 
do.  You  never  give  a  thought  to  my  despair ;  you 
don't  know  what  love  is ;  you  have  no  love  for  me, 
and  you  will  soon  forget  me,  so  perhaps  you  will 
never  come  back  again." 


182  FADETTE 

"Yes,  I  shall  come  back,  Landry,--!  take  God  to 
witness  that  I  shall  come  back  in  a  year,  or  at  most 
two  years,  and  I  shall  be  so  far  from  forgetting  you, 
that  I  shall  never  have  another  friend  or  lover  but 
you." 

"  It  may  be  true  that  you  will  never  have  another 
friend,  for  you  will  never  find  one  who  will  yield  to 
you  as  I  have  done ;  but  I  don't  know  about  another 
lover ;  who  can  be  sure  of  that  ?  " 

"  I  can  answer  for  it." 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  it  yourself, 
Fadette ;  you  have  never  loved,  and  when  you  do 
find  out  what  love  is,  you  will  think  no  more  of  your 
poor  Landry.  Ah,  if  you  had  only  loved  me  as  I 
love  you,  you  would  never  leave  me  like  this ! " 

"  Do  you  think  so,  Landry  ? "  said  little  Fadette, 
looking  at  him  sadly  and  thoughtfully.  "  Perhaps  you 
don't  know  what  you  are  saying.  I  believe  that  I  should 
do  far  more  for  love  than  I  should  for  friendship." 

"Ah,  well,  if  you  were  really  actuated  by  love,  I 
should  not  feel  so  distressed.  Ah,  yes!  Fanchon,  if 
I  thought  you  were  going  away  for  love's  sake,  I 
believe  that  I  should  be  almost  happy,  in  the  midst  of 
all  my  grief.  I  should  have  faith  in  your  promises, 
and  hope  for  the  future.  I  should  be  as  brave  as  you 
are,  —  I  should  indeed.  But  it  is  not  love,  —  you 
have  told  me  so  many  a  time,  and  your  calm  behavior 
toward  me  has  proved  the  truth  of  what  you  say." 

"  So  you  think  it  is  not  love  ?  "  said  little  Fadette, 
"  you  are  quite  sure  of  that  ?  " 


FADETTE  183 

And  as  she  looked  at  him,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears 
which  rolled  down  her  cheeks,  and  her  lips  wore  a 
strange  smile. 

"  Ah,  good  Lord ! "  cried  Landry,  clasping  her  in 
his  arms,  "  if  I  have  made  a  mistake !  " 

"You  have  indeed  made  a  mistake,"  answered 
little  Fadette,  between  smiles  and  tears.  "I  know 
that  ever  since  she  was  thirteen  years  old,  poor 
Cricket  has  set  her  heart  on  Landry  and  on  no  one 
else.  I  know  that  when  she  followed  him  about  the 
fields  and  roads,  talking  nonsense  to  him,  and  teasing 
him  to  make  him  take  some  notice  of  her,  she  did  not 
know  what  she  was  doing  or  what  it  was  that  drew 
her  to  him.  I  know  that  when  she  set  out  one  day 
to  look  for  Sylvinet,  —  knowing  that  Landry  was  in 
trouble,  —  and  found  him  sitting  beside  the  river, 
lost  in  thought,  with  a  little  lamb  on  his  lap,  she 
tried  a  little  witchcraft  on  Landry,  so  that  he  might 
be  forced  to  owe  her  a  debt  of  gratitude.  I  know, 
too,  that  when  she  abused  him  at  the  Roulettes  ford, 
it  was  because  she  was  angry  and  hurt  that  he  had 
never  spoken  to  her  since  that  day.  I  know  that 
when  she  was  crying  in  the  Chaumois  road,  it  was 
because  she  was  sorry  for  having  offended  him.  I 
know  that  when  she  asked  him  to  dance  with  her,  it 
was  because  she  was  wild  about  him,  and  was  in 
hopes  of  pleasing  him  by  her  pretty  dancing.  I  know, 
too,  that  when  he  wanted  to  kiss  her,  and  she  refused, 
when  he  made  love  to  her,  and  she  answered  him  by 
talking  of  friendship,  it  was  because  she  feared  to 


184  FADETTE 

forfeit  his  love  if  she  yielded  too  quickly.  In  short,  I 
know  that  if  she  is  breaking  her  heart  by  going  away, 
it  is  in  the  hope  that  she  may  return  worthy  of  him  in 
the  opinion  of  everybody,  and  fit  to  be  his  wife,  with- 
out bringing  distress  and  mortification  on  his  family." 
When  Landry  heard  this,  he  thought  he  should 
lose  his  wits  altogether.  He  laughed,  he  cried,  he 
shouted.  He  kissed  Fanchon's  hands,  he  kissed  her 
dress,  he  would  have  kissed  her  feet,  had  she  allowed 
him  to  do  so  ;  but  she  raised  him  up  and  gave  him  a 
true  love  kiss  which  was  almost  the  death  of  him,  for 
it  was  the  first  he  had  ever  received  from  her  or  any 
one  else.  He  fell,  half  fainting,  by  the  roadside  ;  she 
picked  up  her  bundle,  blushing  and  agitated  as  she 
was,  and  ran  off,  forbidding  him  to  follow  her,  and 
vowing  that  she  would  come  back  again. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

LANDRY  submitted,  and  returned  to  the  vintage, 
much  surprised  to  find  that  he  was  not  so  unhappy 
as  he  had  expected  to  be,  for  it  is  very  comforting  to 
know  that  one's  love  is  returned ;  and  when  one's 
affection  is  great,  one's  faith  is  equally  so.  He  was 
so  surprised  and  so  delighted  that  he  could  not  help 
telling  young  Caillaud,  who  was  also  surprised,  and 
admired  little  Fadette  for  the  prudence  she  had  shown 
in  behaving  herself  with  such  strength  of  mind  and 
dignity,  during  all  the  time  that  Landry  and  she  had 
been  in  love  with  each  other. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see,"  said  he,  "  that  this  girl  has  so 
much  character,  for  I  have  never  had  a  bad  opinion 
of  her ;  and  I  must  acknowledge  that  if  she  had  ever 
taken  any  notice  of  me,  I  should  have  fancied  her. 
She  has  such  fine  eyes  that  I  have  always  thought 
her  more  pretty  than  ugly,  and  for  some  time  past 
anybody  could  see  plainly  enough  that  she  was  get- 
ting more  attractive  every  day,  if  she  had  cared  to 
make  herself  agreeable.  But  she  cared  for  nobody 
but  you,  Landry,  and  was  satisfied  as  long  as  others 
did  not  dislike  her.  She  never  sought  any  admira- 
tion but  yours ;  and  I  tell  you  that  is  the  kind  of 
woman  that  suits  me.  I  have  known  her  from  a 
185 


186  FADETTE 

child,  and  have  always  thought  her  good-hearted ; 
and,  if  everybody  who  knows  her  should  give  you 
his  honest  opinion,  you  would  find  the  verdict  in  her 
favor.  But  that's  the  way  of  the  world  !  — just  let 
two  or  three  people  set  after  anybody,  and  all  the 
rest  join  in  the  chase,  —  throw  stones,  and  try  their 
best  to  ruin  the  person's  reputation,  and  for  no  rea- 
son whatever,  unless  it  may  be  for  the  pleasure  they 
take  in  crushing  one  who  is  defenceless." 

Landry  took  great  comfort  in  listening  to  young 
Caillaud's  moralizing,  and  from  that  time  on  they 
became  warm  friends,  and  it  was  quite  a  consolation 
to  be  able  to  talk  to  him  about  his  woes.  So  one  day 
Landry  said  to  him,  "  Don't  waste  another  thought  on 
Madelon,  my  dear  Caillaud.  You  are  no  older  than 
I  am,  and  you  have  plenty  of  time  to  think  about 
getting  married.  Now,  I  have  a  little  sister  Nanette, 
who  is  as  pretty  as  a  picture,  well  brought  up,  sweet- 
tempered,  —  a  real  little  darling,  —  and  she  will  soon 
be  sixteen.  Come  and  see  us  a  little  oftener  !  My 
father  thinks  a  good  deal  of  you,  and  when  you  get 
acquainted  with  Nanette,  you  will  see  that  you  couldn't 
do  better  than  to  become  my  brother-in-law." 

"Upon  my  word,  I  agree  with  you  !"  answered 
Caillaud ;  "  and  if  the  girl  is  not  already  engaged,  I 
will  call  at  your  house  every  Sunday  evening." 

The  evening  that  Fanchon  Fadet  left,  Landry 
made  up  his  mind  to  go  and  tell  his  father  how  well 
the  girl  had  behaved  whom  he  had  so  misjudged ; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  to  offer  him  his  submission  for 


FADETTE  187 

the  present,  though  he  would  not  commit  himself 
for  the  future.  His  heart  beat  fast  as  he  passed 
Mother  Fadet's  house ;  but  he  summoned  all  his 
courage,  thinking  to  himself  that  if  Fadette  had  not 
gone  away,  it  might  have  been  a  long  time  before  he 
could  have  discovered  that  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
have  won  her  heart.  And  he  saw  Mother  Fanchette, 
who  was  Fanchon's  relative  and  godmother,  and  who 
had  come  to  take  her  place  in  caring  for  the  old 
woman  and  the  child.  She  was  sitting  in  the  door- 
way, with  the  Grasshopper  on  her  lap.  Poor  Jeanet 
was  crying  and  did  not  want  to  go  to  bed,  because 
his  dear  Fanchon  had  not  yet  come  in,  said  he,  and 
he  wanted  her  to  hear  him  say  his  prayers  and  tuck 
him  in.  Mother  Fanchette  did  her  best  to  comfort 
him,  and  Landry  was  glad  to  hear  her  speak  so  kindly 
and  gently  to  him.  But  as  soon  as  the  Grasshopper 
caught  sight  of  Landry,  he  slipped  away  from  Mother 
Fanchette,  at  the  risk  of  leaving  one  of  his  claws  be- 
hind, and  ran  and  threw  his  arms  around  Landry's 
legs,  hugging  him  and  asking  him  all  sorts  of  ques- 
tions, and  begging  him  to  bring  back  his  dear 
Fanchon.  Landry  took  him  in  his  arms,  and  did  his 
best  to  soothe  him,  though  he  could  not  help  shed- 
ding tears  himself.  He  tried  to  make  him  take  a 
bunch  of  fine  grapes  which  he  was  carrying  to  Mother 
Barbeau  from  Mother  Caillaud,  but  Jeanet,  who  was 
generally  greedy  enough,  would  not  accept  anything, 
nor  obey  Mother  Fanchette,  till  Landry  promised 
him,  with  a  sigh,  to  go  and  look  for  his  Fanchon. 


188  FADETTE 

Father  Barbeau  was  not  prepared  for  this  step  on 
the  part  of  Fadette.  He  was  pleased,  but  could  not 
help  regretting  the  course  she  had  taken  ;  for  he  was 
a  just  and  kind-hearted  man. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Landry,  that  you  had  not  the  strength 
of  will  to  give  up  going  to  see  her.  If  you  had  done 
your  duty,  she  would  not  have  been  obliged  to  leave 
home.  God  grant  that  the  poor  child  may  do  well 
in  her  new  position,  and  that  her  grandmother  and 
her  little  brother  may  not  suffer  by  her  absence ;  for 
though  there  are  a  good  many  who  speak  ill  of  her, 
there  are  some  who  take  her  part,  and  say  that  she 
was  very  kind  to  her  family,  and  did  a  great  deal  for 
them.  We  shall  soon  see  whether  the  ugly  stories 
they  tell  about  her  are  true  or  not,  and  we'll  stand  up 
for  her  as  we  ought.  If,  unfortunately,  they  should 
turn  out  to  be  true,  and  you,  Landry,  are  the  guilty 
party,  we  will  come  to  her  assistance,  and  not  allow 
her  to  suffer.  All  I  ask  of  you,  Landry,  is  that  you 
will  never  marry  her." 

"  Father,"  said  Landry,  "  you  and  I  do  not  take 
the  same  view  of  the  matter.  If  I  were  guilty  of  the 
offence  to  which  you  allude,  I  should,  on  the  contrary, 
ask  your  permission  to  marry  her.  But  as  little 
Fadette  is  as  innocent  as  my  sister  Nanette,  I  only 
ask  you  to  forgive  me  now  for  giving  you  so  much 
trouble.  We  will  talk  about  her  later  on,  as  you 
promised  me." 

Father  Barbeau  was  obliged  to  yield  to  these  con- 
ditions, and  let  the  subject  drop  for  the  present.  He 


FADETTE  189 

was  too  prudent  to  attempt  to  hurry  up  matters,  and 
so  was  forced  to  rest  content  with  the  progress  he 
had  made. 

From  that  time  on,  nothing  was  said  about  Fadette 
at  the  Twinnery  ;  for  Landry  turned  red  and  then  pale 
when  anybody  happened  to  mention  her  name  in  his 
presence,  and  it  was  easy  enough  to  see  that  he  was 
as  fond  of  her  as  ever. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

AT  first  Sylvinet  was  selfish  enough  to  feel  glad 
that  Fadette  had  gone  away,  and  flattered  himself  that 
now  Landry  would  care  for  nobody  but  him,  and 
that  nobody  would  ever  again  take  his  place.  But 
this  did  not  turn  out  to  be  the  case.  Landry  cer- 
tainly loved  Sylvinet  better  than  anybody  in  the 
world  after  Fanchon,  but  he  could  not  long  be  happy 
in  his  society ;  for  Sylvinet  would  not  make  an  effort 
to  overcome  his  dislike  to  Fanchon.  As  soon  as 
Landry  began  to  talk  to  him  about  her,  and  tried  to 
win  him  over  to  her  side,  Sylvinet  became  very 
much  agitated,  and  reproached  him  because  he  per- 
sisted in  worrying  his  father  and  mother  and  dis- 
tressing him.  So  Landry  said  no  more  to  him  about 
it,  but  as  he  felt  as  if  he  must  talk  to  some  one,  he 
divided  his  time  between  young  Caillaud  and  little 
Jeanet.  He  took  the  child  out  walking  with  him,  and 
heard  his  catechism,  and  taught  him  and  comforted 
him  as  well  as  he  could. 

When  people  met  him  with  the  child,  they  would 
have  ridiculed  him  had  they  dared.  But  in  addition 
to  the  fact  that  Landry  never  allowed  anybody  to 
ridicule  him  on  any  subject,  he  was  more  proud  than 
ashamed  of  his  championship  of  Fancho'n  Fadet's 
190 


FADETTE  191 

brother,  and  this  was  his  way  of  answering  those  who 
insisted  that  Father  Barbeau  had  been  clever  enough 
to  put  an  end  to  his  love-affair  in  short  order.  Syl- 
vine.t  found  that  his  brother  was  still  somewhat 
alienated  from  him,  and  was  jealous  of  both  young 
Caillaud  and  little  Jeanet.  He  saw  also  that  his 
sister  Nanette,  who  had  all  along  comforted  and 
cheered  him  with  her  tender  caresses  and  loving  ways, 
was  beginning  to  take  pleasure  in  the  society  of 
young  Caillaud,  whose  attention  met  with  the  approval 
of  both  families.  Poor  Sylvinet,  who  wished  to 
reign  supreme  in  the  affections  of  those  whom  he 
loved,  became  strangely  languid  and  melancholy,  and 
so  gloomy  and  low-spirited  that  nothing  could  rouse 
him.  He  no  longer  laughed,  he  took  no  interest  in 
anything ;  he  had  grown  so  weak  and  feeble  that  he 
was  hardly  able  to  work.  At  last  they  began  to  be 
alarmed  about  him,  for  his  fever  was  almost  incessant ; 
and  when  it  was  a  little  higher  than  usual,  he  was 
flighty  in  his  talk  and  wounded  his  parents'  feelings. 
He  insisted  that  nobody  loved  him,  though  he  had 
been  more  spoiled  and  petted  than  any  member  of 
the  family.  He  wished  that  he  could  die,  and  said 
that  he  was  of  no  use  to  anybody ;  that  his  friends 
treated  him  kindly,  because  they  pitied  him,  but 
that  he  was  a  burden  to  his  parents,  and  it  would  be 
a  great  mercy  to  them  if  God  would  take  him  away. 

Sometimes  Father  Barbeau  reproved  the  boy 
severely  when  he  heard  him  talk  in  such  an  un- 
christian way,  but  it  did  no  good.  Then  Father 


192  FADETTE 

Barbeau  would  entreat  him,  with  tears,  to  believe 
that  he  loved  him.  This  was  worse  still.  Sylvinet 
cried,  —  repented,  and  asked  forgiveness  of  his  father, 
his  mother,  his  twin  brother,  and  the  whole  family ; 
but  the  fever  always  came  back  with  renewed  force, 
from  having  given  way  to  his  morbid  feelings. 

They  consulted  the  doctors  again.  They  had  not 
much  advice  to  give,  but  seemed  to  think  that  all 
the  trouble  arose  from  the  fact  that  he  was  a  twin, 
and  that  one  or  the  other  of  them  —  probably  the 
weaker  one  —  would  certainly  die.  So  they  consulted 
the  bath  woman  at  Clavieres,  who  was  the  best  nurse 
in  the  district,  now  that  Mother  Sagette  was  dead 
and  Mother  Fadet  was  getting  childish.  This  clever 
woman  told  Mother  Barbeau : 

"  The  only  thing  which  can  save  your  child,  is 
falling  in  love  with  some  girl." 

"  And  he  can't  bear  girls,"  said  Mother  Barbeau ; 
"  I  have  never  seen  a  boy  so  shy  and  retiring,  and 
from  the  time  that  his  twin  brother  took  it  into 
his  head  to  fall  in  love,  Sylvinet  hasn't  had  a  good 
word  for  any  girl  of  our  acquaintance.  He  abuses 
them  all,  because  one  of  them  —  and,  unfortunately, 
not  one  of  the  best — stole  his  brother's  heart  away 
from  him." 

"  Well,"  said  the  nurse,  who  was  very  skilful  in  dis- 
eases of  both  mind  and  body,  "  when  your  son  Sylvi- 
net does  fall  in  love  with  a  woman,  he  will  love  her 
much  more  warmly  than  he  does  his  brother.  Mark 
my  words.  His  heart  is  too  full  of  love,  and  as  he 


FADETTE  193 

has  always  bestowed  it  all  on  his  brother,  he  has 
almost  forgotten  his  sex,  and  has  thus  sinned  against 
the  law  of  God,  which  ordains  that  a  man  should 
cherish  his  wife  more  than  father  or  mother,  sister 
or  brother.  But  cheer  up!  He  must  soon  listen  to 
the  voice  of  nature,  however  backward  he  may  be. 
Don't  refuse  to  let  him  marry  the  woman  whom  he 
may  fancy,  no  matter  how  poor  and  ugly  and  dis- 
agreeable she  may  be ;  for,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  he 
will  love  but  once.  His  heart  is  too  faithful  ever  to 
change,  and  if  it  requires  a  great  miracle  of  nature  to 
wean  him  from  his  twin,  it  must  be  a  still  greater  one 
to  make  him  forget  the  woman  whom  he  may  come 
to  love  even  more  than  he  does  his  brother." 

Father  Barbeau  was  much  impressed  by  the  opinion 
of  the  nurse,  and  he  tried  to  get  Sylvinet  to  visit  at 
those  houses  where  there  were  good  and  pretty  girls 
of  marriageable  age.  But,  though  Sylvinet  was  a 
handsome  young  fellow,  and  had  pleasant  manners, 
he  looked  so  sad  and  so  indifferent  that  the  girls  did 
not  fancy  him.  They  would  not  make  any  advances 
to  him,  and  he  was  so  shy  that  he  imagined  that  he 
hated  them,  when,  in  fact,  he  was  only  afraid  of  them. 

Father  Caillaud,  who  was  the  most  intimate  friend 
and  adviser  of  the  family,  then  had  another  piece  of 
advice  to  offer. 

"  I  have  always  told  you,"  said  he,  "  that  absence  is 
the  best  cure.  Just  look  at  Landry!  He  was  dis- 
tracted about  little  Fadette,  and  now  that  she  has  gone 
away,  he  is  none  the  worse  in  mind  or  body ;  he 
o 


194  FADETTE 

doesn't  even  seem  as  sad  as  he  used  to  be,  for  we 
noticed  how  he  looked,  and  wondered  what  could 
be  the  matter.  Now  he  seems  quite  sensible  and 
resigned.  It  would  be  the  same  with  Sylvinet,  if  he 
did  not  see  his  brother  for  five  or  six  months.  I'll 
tell  you  how  you  can  separate  them  without  making 
any  trouble.  My  La  Priche  farm  is  doing  well,  but  the 
property  which  I  own  over  toward  Arton  is  in  very  poor 
condition  ;  for  my  tenant  has  been  ill  for  about  a  year 
and  doesn't  get  any  better.  I  don't  want  to  turn  him 
out,  for  he  is  an  honest  man ;  but  if  I  could  send  him 
a  good  assistant  he  would  soon  improve,  for  there  is 
nothing  the  matter  with  him  but  hard  work  and 
anxiety.  If  you  are  agreed,  I  will  send  Landry  over 
to  spend  the  rest  of  the  season  on  my  property.  We 
needn't  let  Sylvinet  know  how  long  he  will  be  gone. 
On  the  contrary,  we  will  tell  him  that  Landry  will  be 
gone  a  week.  Then  after  a  week  has  passed,  we'll 
say  that  he  will  be  gone  another  week,  —  and  so 
on,  till  he  gets  accustomed  to  being  separated  from 
him.  Now  just  follow  my  advice,  instead  of  humor- 
ing the  whims  of  a  spoiled  child  who  has  got  the 
upper  hand  of  you." 

Father  Barbeau  was  disposed  to  follow  this  advice, 
but  Mother  Barbeau  was  afraid.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  it  would  be  a  death-blow  to  Sylvinet.  So  they 
agreed  to  make  a  compromise ;  she  begged  that 
Landry  might  first  be  kept  at  home  for  a  fortnight,  to 
see  if  his  brother  would  not  get  well  by  having  him 
with  him  all  the  time.  But  if  Sylvinet  got  worse, 


FADETTE  195 

she  would  consent  to  take  the  advice   of   Father 
Caillaud. 

And  so  Landry  came  to  stay  the  allotted  time  at 
the  Twinnery,  —  greatly  to  his  satisfaction,  —  and 
they  made  an  excuse  that  his  father  needed  him 
to  help  finish  threshing  the  wheat,  as  Sylvinet  was  no 
longer  able  to  help  him  work.  Landry  was  as  kind 
as  possible  to  his  brother,  and  did  his  best  to  please 
him.  He  stayed  with  him  continually ;  he  slept  in 
the  same  bed ;  he  took  care  of  him  as  if  he  had  been 
a  little  child.  The  first  day  Syivinet  was  in  very 
good  spirits,  but  the  second  he  took  it  into  his  head 
that  Landry  was  tired  of  him,  and  Landry  could  not 
make  him  believe  otherwise.  The  third  day  Sylvi- 
net got  angry  because  the  Grasshopper  came  to  see 
Landry,  and  Landry  had  not  the  heart  to  send  him 
away.  Finally,  at  the  end  of  the  week,  they  had  to 
give  it  up;  for  Sylvinet  became  more  and  more  un- 
reasonable and  exacting,  and  was  jealous  of  his  own 
shadow.  Then  they  determined  to  try  Father  Cail- 
laud's  plan,  and  though  Landry,  who  was  so  fond  of 
his  native  place,  his  work,  his  family,  and  that  of  his 
employer,  did  not  at  all  fancy  going  to  Arton  among 
strangers,  he  was  perfectly  willing  to  do  what  they 
proposed  with  the  hope  of  benefiting  his  brother. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  first  day  Sylvinet  nearly  died,  but  the  second 
he  was  calmer,  and  the  third  the  fever  had  left  him. 
First,  he  became  resigned,  then  he  mustered  up  a 
little  spirit,  and  by  the  time  the  first  week  had  passed, 
it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  his  brother's  absence  had 
done  him  good.  A  secret  feeling  of  jealousy  sug- 
gested a  reason  for  being  almost  glad  that  Landry  had 
gone  away.  "At  any  rate,"  thought  he,  "he  doesn't 
know  anybody  over  there,  and  he  can't  make  new 
friends  at  once.  He  will  be  a  little  homesick,  and 
he'll  think  of  me,  and  wish  he  could  see  me.  When 
he  comes  back,  he'll  love  me  better  than  ever." 

Landry  had  been  gone  about  three  months,  and 
little  Fadette  almost  a  year,  when  she  unexpectedly 
returned,  because  her  grandmother  had  had  a  stroke 
of  paralysis.  She  nursed  her  carefully  and  tenderly, 
but  age  is  an  incurable  disease,  and  in  about  a  fort- 
night Mother  Fadet  suddenly  died.  Three  days 
afterward,  little  Fadette,  having  buried  the  poor  old 
woman,  put  the  house  in  order,  undressed  her  little 
brother  and  put  him  to  bed,  and  kissed  her  godmother, 
who  had  retired  to  rest  in  another  room,  sat  sadly 
enough  beside  her  little  fire,  which  threw  out  but  little 
196 


FADETTE  197 

light,  and  listened  to  the  cricket  on  the  hearth,  which 
seemed  to  say  to  her : 

"  Fay,  fay,  my  little  fay, 
Take  thy  torch  and  haste  away ; 
Here's  my  cap  and  here's  my  cloak, 
And  here's  a  mate  for  fairy  folk." 

The  rain  pattered  against  the  window-pane,  freez- 
ing as  it  fell,  and  Fanchon  was  thinking  of  her  lover, 
when  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door  and  a  voice 
said: 

"  Fanchon  Fadet,  are  you  there,  and  do  you  recog- 
nize me?" 

It  did  not  take  her  long  to  open  the  door,  and  great 
was  her  delight  to  find  herself  in  Landry's  arms.  He 
had  heard  of  her  grandmother's  illness  and  her  own 
return.  He  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  come 
and  see  her,  and  he  came  at  night,  intending  to  go 
away  at  daybreak.  So  they  spent  the  night  talking 
at  the  fireside,  but  very  soberly  and  seriously  ;  for  little 
Fadette  reminded  Landry  that  the  bed  on  which  her 
grandmother  had  died  was  scarcely  cold  yet,  and  it 
was  neither  the  time  nor  the  place  to  give  themselves 
up  to  their  own  delight  at  seeing  each  other  once 
more.  But  still,  in  spite  of  their  good  resolutions, 
they  could  not  help  feeling  very  happy  to  be  together 
again,  and  to  assure  themselves  that  they  loved  each 
other  more  than  ever.  As  the  day  began  to  dawn, 
however,  Landry's  courage  failed  him,  and  he  begged 
Fanchon  to  hide  him  in  her  garret  so  that  he  might  see 


198  FADETTE 

her  again  the  next  night.  But,  as  usual,  she  brought 
him  to  his  senses.  She  told  him  that  they  would  not 
be  separated  much  longer,  for  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  remain  at  home. 

"  I  have  my  reasons  for  that,  which  I  will  tell  you 
later,"  said  she,  "  and  which  shall  not  stand  in  the 
way  of  our  marrying  some  day.  Go  and  finish  the 
work  which  your  master  has  given  you  to  do  ;  for,  from 
what  my  godmother  tells  me,  it  is  necessary  for  your 
brother's  recovery  that  he  should  not  see  you  for 
some  time  to  come." 

"  That  is  the  only  reason  which  could  induce  me  to 
leave  you,"  answered  Landry  ;  "  for  my  poor  twin  has 
caused  me  a  good  deal  of  anxiety,  and  I  am  afraid 
that  I  shall  still  suffer  on  his  account.  You  are  so 
clever,  Fanchonette,  you  ought  to  be  able  to  think  of 
some  way  of  curing  him." 

"  I  don't  know  any  other  way  than  to  reason  with 
him,"  answered  she  ;  "  for  it  is  his  mind  which  is  in- 
juring his  body,  and  whoever  could  cure  one,  would 
cure  the  other.  But  he  has  such  a  dislike  to  me  that 
I  shall  never  have  an  opportunity  to  talk  to  him,  and 
try  to  comfort  him.'" 

"  But  you  are  so  clever,  Fadette,  —  you  talk  so  well, 
and  you  have  such  a  talent  for  persuading  anybody  to 
think  just  what  you  please,  when  you  choose  to  take 
the  trouble,  that  if  you  could  only  talk  to  him  one 
hour,  it  would  have  an  effect  on  him.  Try  it,  I  beg  of 
you!  —  Don't  mind  his  pride  and  ill  humor!  Make 
him  listen  to  you.  Make  this  effort  for  my  sake,  my 


FADETTE  199 

dear  Fanchon,  and  for  the  sake  of  our  love  also; 
for  my  brother's  opposition  is  not  the  least  of  our 
troubles." 

So  Fanchon  gave  him  her  promise,  and  they  parted, 
after  mutual  assurances  of  love  and  fidelity. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

NOBODY  in  the  neighborhood  knew  that  Landry 
had  been  home.  If  Sylvinet  had  happened  to  hear 
of  it,  he  would  have  fallen  ill  again,  and  would  never 
have  forgiven  Landry  for  coming  to  see  Fadette  and 
not  himself. 

Two  days  afterward,  little  Fadette  dressed  herself 
very  neatly ;  for  she  was  no  longer  penniless,  and 
her  mourning  gown  was  of  fine  serge.  She  walked 
through  La  Cosse,  and  as  she  had  grown  a  great  deal, 
those  who  saw  her  pass  did  not  at  first  recognize 
her.  She  had  grown  to  be  much  better  looking 
while  she  had  been  away  in  the  city.  Good  food 
and  lodging  had  improved  her  complexion,  and  she 
was  as  plump  as  a  girl  of  her  age  ought  to  be,  and 
there  was  no  longer  any  danger  of  her  being  mistaken 
for  a  boy  in  disguise  ;  for  she  had  a  very  pretty,  graceful 
figure.  Love  had  given  her  whole  person  that  inde- 
scribable charm  which  nobody  can  fail  to  remark. 
In  short,  if  she  were  not  the  prettiest  girl  in  the 
world,  as  Landry  imagined  her  to  be,  she  was  the 
most  winning  and  the  freshest  girl  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  had  the  most  attractive  face  and  figure. 

She  had  a  basket  on  her  arm,  and  she  stopped  at 
the  Twinnery,  where  she  asked  to  see  Father  Bar- 
200 


FADETTE  201 

beau.  Sylvinet  was  the  first  to  see  her,  and  he  was 
so  annoyed  at  meeting  her  that  he  turned  his  back. 
But  she  asked  him  so  politely  where  his  father  was, 
that  he  was  obliged  to  answer  her,  and  take  her  to 
the  barn,  where  Father  Barbeau  was  busy  at  some 
carpentering  work.  Fadette  having  asked  to  see 
him  alone,  so  that  she  might  have  a  private  conversa- 
tion with  him,  he  shut  the  barn  door,  and  told  her 
that  he  was  ready  to  hear  what  she  had  to  say  to 
him. 

Little  Fadette  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  discour- 
aged by  Father  Barbeau's  coldness.  She  seated 
herself  on  a  bundle  of  straw,  he  sat  down  on  another, 
and  she  began: 

"Father  Barbeau,  though  my  grandmother,  who  is 
dead  and  gone,  had  a  great  dislike  to  you,  and  you 
have  a  grudge  against  me,  it  is  nevertheless  true  that 
I  have  always  known  that  you  are  the  most  honorable 
and  upright  man  in  this  part  of  the  country.  There 
are  no  two  opinions  on  that  subject,  and  my  grand- 
mother herself,  while  she  accused  you  of  being  proud, 
did  you  that  justice.  Besides  that,  your  son  Lan- 
dry  and  I  have  been  friends  a  long  time,  as  you 
know.  He  has  often  talked  to  me  about  you,  and  I 
know  from  him.  even  better  than  from  others,  what  a 
good  man  you  are.  That  is  the  reason  I  have  come 
to  ask  a  favor  of  you,  and  to  take  you  into  my  con- 
fidence." 

"  Go  on,  Fadette,"  said  Father  Barbeau ;  "  I  have 
never  yet  refused  to  help  anybody,  and  if  it  is  any- 


202  FADETTE 

thing  which  my  conscience  does  not  forbid,  you  may 
rely  upon  my  doing  what  I  can  for  you." 

"  It  is  this,"  said  Fadette,  lifting  her  basket,  and 
setting  it  down  at  Father  Barbeau's  feet.  "  My  grand- 
mother, when  she  was  alive,  earned  more  money 
than  you  would  suppose  possible  by  giving  advice  and 
by  the  sale  of  her  remedies,  and,  as  she  hardly  spent 
anything,  and  never  made  any  investments,  of  course 
nobody  suspected  what  she  had  in  an  old  hole  in 
her  cellar,  which  she  often  pointed  out  to  me,  and 
said: 

"  After  I  am  gone,  you  will  find  in  there  all  that  1 
have  to  leave  you.  It  belongs  to  you  and  your 
brother,  and  if  you  are  a  little  pinched  now,  you  will 
be  all  the  richer  some  day  or  other.  But  don't  let 
the  lawyers  get  hold  of  it,  for  they'd  eat  it  all  up  in 
costs.  Keep  it  when  you  get  it,  —  hide  it  away  as 
long  as  you  live,  so  that  you  may  not  come  to  want 
in  your  old  age. 

"  After  my  poor  grandmother  was  buried,  I  did  as 
she  had  told  me.  I  took  the  key  of  the  cellar  and 
pried  out  the  bricks  of  the  wall,  just  where  she  had 
showed  me.  There  I  found  what  I  have  brought  you 
in  this  basket,  Father  Barbeau,  and  I  beg  of  you  to 
invest  it  as  you  see  fit,  after  doing  whatever  the  law 
may  demand,  and  avoiding  the  heavy  expenses  of 
which  I  am  afraid." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  confidence  you 
have  expressed  in  me,  Fadette,"  said  Father  Barbeau, 
without  looking  into  the  basket,  though  he  felt  con- 


FADETTE  203 

siderable  curiosity  as  to  its  contents  ;  "  but  I  have  no 
right  to  take  charge  of  your  money,  or  to  manage  your 
affairs.  I  am  not  your  guardian.  Your  grandmother 
must  have  left  a  will." 

"  She  did  not  leave  a  will,  but  my  mother  is  my 
legal  guardian.  Now,  you  know  it  is  a  long  time 
since  I  have  heard  anything  about  her,  and  I  don't 
know  whether  she  is  dead  or  alive,  poor  thing.  My 
nearest  relative  after  her,  is  my  godmother  Fanchette, 
who  is  a  good,  honest  woman,  but  quite  incapable  of 
managing  my  property,  or  even  indeed  of  keeping 
it  safely  locked  up.  She  would  be  sure  to  talk 
about  it  and  show  it  to  everybody,  and  I  should  be 
afraid  that  she  would  make  poor  investments,  or  that 
by  allowing  so  many  inquisitive  people  to  handle  it,  a 
good  deal  of  it  might  be  taken  without  her  knowledge. 
My  poor,  dear  godmother  doesn't  even  know  how  to 
count  it." 

"  So  it  is  a  considerable  sum  ?  "  asked  Father  Bar- 
beau,  his  eyes  fastened,  in  spite  of  himself,  on  the 
cover  of  the  basket.  He  lifted  it  by  the  handle  to 
ascertain  its  weight.  He  was  amazed  to  find  it  so 
heavy,  and  said,  "  If  it  is  in  small  coin,  a  load  for  a 
horse  wouldn't  amount  to  much." 

Little  Fadette,  who  had  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  was 
much  amused  at  his  evident  curiosity  about  the  con- 
tents of  the  basket.  She  made  a  motion  as  if  to  open 
it,  but  Father  Barbeau  considered  it  beneath  his  dig- 
nity to  allow  her  to  do  so. 

"  It  is  none  of  my  business,"  said  he,  "  and  as  I 


204  FADETTE 

can't  take  charge  of  your  money,  I  have  no  right  to 
know  anything  about  your  affairs.1' 

"  But,  Father  Barbeau,  you  will,  at  least,  do  me  this 
one  little  service  !  I  can't  count  above  a  hundred 
much  better  than  my  godmother.  Besides,  1  don't 
know  the  value  of  all  the  coins,  old  and  new,  and  you 
are  the  only  one  I  can  trust  to  tell  me  whether  I  am 
rich  or  poor,  and  to  give  me  the  exact  amount  of  my 
property." 

"  Well,  let's  see,  then,"  said  Father  Barbeau,  who 
could  hold  out  no  longer.  "  That's  no  great  favor  to 
ask,  and  I  ought  not  to  refuse  you." 

Then  Fadette  quickly  raised  the  two  lids  of  the 
basket,  and  took  out  two  big  bags,  each  of  which 
contained  two  thousand  francs  in  crown  pieces. 

"  Well,  that's  very  nice,"  said  Father  Barbeau ; 
"  there  is  a  little  dowry,  which  will  bring  you  a  suitor 
or  two.1' 

"That  isn't  all,"  said  Fadette  ;  "  there  is  some  more 
at  the  bottom  of  the  basket,  though  I  don't  know  how 
much  it  is." 

And  she  drew  out  an  eel-skin  purse,  which  she 
emptied  into  Father  Barbeau's  hat.  There  were  a  hun- 
dred gold  louis,  —  evidently  old  coins,  —  which  made 
the  honest  man  open  his  eyes.  When  he  had  counted 
them,  and  put  them  back  in  the  eel  skin,  she  took  out 
another  just  like  it,  and  then  a  third,  and  a  fourth, 
and  finally,  in  gold,  silver,  and  small  coin,  there  was 
not  much  less  than  forty  thousand  francs  in  the 
basket. 


FADETTE  205 

That  was  about  one-third  more  than  the  value  of 
all  Father  Barbeau's  buildings,  and,  as  country  people 
never  have  much  ready  money,  he  had  never  seen  so 
large  a  sum  in  his  life. 

However  honest  and  disinterested  a  peasant  may 
be,  nobody  can  say  of  him  that  he  hates  the  sight  of 
money,  and  so  Father  Barbeau  felt  the  drops  of  per- 
spiration start  out  on  his  forehead,  for  a  moment. 

When  he  had  done  counting,  he  said : 

"  You  lack  only  twenty-two  crowns  of  having  forty 
thousand  francs,  and  your  share  of  the  property  is 
about  two  thousand  pistoles  in  ready  money.  That 
makes  you  the  greatest  heiress  in  these  parts,  Fa- 
dette,  and  your  brother,  the  Grasshopper,  may  stay 
lame  and  sickly  all  his  life ;  he  can  take  a  carriage  to 
look  after  his  property.  You  may  consider  yourself 
fortunate ;  for  you  need  only  let  it  be  known  that  you 
are  rich  if  you  want  to  get  a  good  husband." 

"  I  am  in  no  hurry,"  said  Fadette,  "  and  I  must  beg 
you,  on  the  contrary,  not  to  let  anybody  know  how 
rich  I  am,  Father  Barbeau.  Ugly  as  I  am,  I  don't 
want  to  be  married  for  my  money,  but  for  my  good 
heart  and  my  fair  name.  And  as  I  have  had  a  bad 
reputation  in  this  part  of  the  country,  I  mean  to  stay 
here  some  time,  to  prove  that  I  don't  deserve  it." 

"As  for  your  ugliness,  Fadette,"  said  Father  Bar- 
beau,  raising  his  eyes,  which  had  been  fastened  on 
the  basket,  "  I  can  tell  you,  in  sober  earnest,  that  you 
have  got  bravely  over  it,  and  have  improved  so  much 
since  you  went  to  the  city  that  you  will  pass  for  a 


206  FADETTE 

very  nice-looking  girl  nowadays.  And  as  for  your 
bad  name,  if,  as  I  hope  is  the  case,  you  do  not  deserve 
it,  I  approve  of  your  idea  of  waiting  awhile  before  you 
let  it  be  known  that  you  are  rich  ;  for  there  are  plenty 
of  men  who  would  want  to  marry  you  for  your  money, 
without  feeling  for  you  the  regard  which  a  woman 
should  demand  from  her  husband. 

"  Now  as  for  the  money  which  you  wish  to  deposit 
with  me,  it  would  be  contrary  to  law  for  me  to  take  it, 
and  might  expose  me,  later  on,  to  false  suspicions 
and  accusations  ;  for  there  are  plenty  of  scandal-mon- 
gers about.  Besides,  supposing  you  had  a  right  to 
dispose  of  what  belongs  to  you,  you  have  no  author- 
ity over  the  property  of  your  brother,  who  is  a  minor. 
All  that  I  can  do  will  be  to  ask  advice  for  you,  with- 
out mentioning  your  name.  Then  I  will  let  you 
know  how  to  invest  your  legacy  and  your  brother's, 
so  that  it  will  be  safe,  without  letting  it  fall  into  the 
hands  of  pettifoggers,  who  are  not  all  to  be  trusted. 
Take  it  air  away,  then,  and  hide  it  again  till  I  can 
give  you  an  answer.  I  place  myself  at  your  disposal 
if  you  need  me,  to  testify  before  the  attorneys  of  your 
co-heir,  as  to  the  amount  of  the  sum  which  we  have 
just  been  counting,  and  which  I  am  going  to  write 
down  in  the  corner  of  my  barn,  so  that  I  shall  not 
forget  it." 

All  that  Fadette  wanted  was  that  Father  Barbeau 
should  know  just  how  matters  stood.  If  she  was 
rather  glad  to  let  him  know  that  she  was  rich,  it  was 
only  because  now  he  could  no  longer  accuse  her  of 
setting  her  cap  for  Landry. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

FATHER  BARBEAU,  seeing  how  prudent  and  clever 
she  was,  was  not  in  such  haste  to  deposit  and  invest 
her  money,  as  he  was  to  make  inquiries  as  to  the 
reputation  she  had  borne  at  Chateau  Meillant,  where 
she  had  spent  the  year  of  her  absence.  Though  her 
large  dowry  was  very  tempting,  and  made  him  feel 
inclined  to  overlook  her  unfortunate  connections,  it 
was  quite  a  different  matter  when  the  honor  of  the 
girl  he  hoped  to  call  his  daughter-in-law  was  in  ques- 
tion. So  he  went  in  person  to  Chateau  Meillant,  and 
instituted  the  strictest  inquiries.  He  learned  not 
only  that  it  was  false  that  Fadette  had  gone  there  to 
give  birth  to  a  child,  but  also  that  she  had  conducted 
herself  so  well  that  there  was  absolutely  nothing  to 
be  said  to  her  disadvantage.  She  had  been  in  the 
service  of  a  nun  of  noble  family,  who  had  taken  pleas- 
ure in  making  a  companion  of  her,  instead  of  a  ser- 
vant, having  found  her  so  well-behaved,  so  sensible, 
and  so  well-mannered.  She  regretted  losing  her,  and 
said  that  she  was  a  lovely  Christian  character,  frank, 
neat,  careful,  and  so  amiable  in  disposition  that  she 
never  expected  to  find  another  like  her. 

As  this  old  lady  was  quite  wealthy,  she  was  inter- 
ested in  many  charities,  and  Fadette  had  been  of 
207 


208  FADETTE 

great  service  to  her  in  caring  for  the  sick  and  in  com- 
pounding medicines,  and  her  mistress  had  taught 
her  how  to  prepare  several  valuable  secret  remedies, 
which  she  herself  had  learned  in  her  convent  before 
the  Revolution. 

Father  Barbeau  was  much  pleased,  and  he  came 
back  to  La  Cosse  determined  to  sift  the  matter  to  the 
bottom.  He  called  his  family  together  and  charged 
his  older  children,  his  brothers,  and  all  his  relatives, 
to  inquire  closely  into  Fadette's  mode  of  life  since 
she  had  arrived  at  years  of  discretion,  so  that,  if  all 
the  gossip  about  her  had  arisen  merely  from  some 
childish  piece  of  folly,  they  might  set  it  at  naught ; 
but  if,  on  the  contrary,  anybody  could  claim  to  have 
seen  her  commit  an  actual  misdemeanor  or  knew  her 
to  be  guilty  of  any  act  of  impropriety,  he  should 
enforce  his  order  that  Landry  should  have  nothing 
further  to  do  with  her.  The  investigation  was  con- 
ducted with  great  prudence,  as  he  had  desired,  and 
there  was  no  mention  made  of  the  dowry  ;  for  he  had 
not  even  told  his  wife  about  that. 

All  this  time,  Fadette  was  living  a  very  retired  life 
in  her  little  house,  which  remained  unchanged,  ex- 
cepting that  it  was  kept  so  clean  that  you  could  have 
seen  your  face  in  the  simple  furniture. 

She  dressed  her  little  Grasshopper  neatly,  and  made 
by  degrees  so  great  a  change  for  the  better  in  their 
food,  that  the  effect  was  soon  apparent  on  the  child : 
his  health  improved  greatly,  and  he  soon  became  as 
healthy  as  one  could  wish.  His  disposition  altered 


FADETTE  209 

under  the  influence  of  happiness,  and  now  that  his 
grandmother  was  no  longer  there  to  threaten  him, 
and  nag  at  him,  and  as  he  met  with  nothing  but 
caresses,  kind  words,  and  good  treatment,  he  grew  to 
be  a  nice  little  boy,  full  of  quaint  and  pretty  fancies, 
so  that  nobody  could  think  of  disliking  him,  in  spite 
of  his  limp  and  his  little  snub  nose. 

In  addition  to  that,  there  was  so  marked  a  change 
in  the  person  and  habits  of  Fanchon  Fadet,  that  all 
the  ugly  stories  about  her  were  forgotten,  and  more 
than  one  young  fellow,  as  he  saw  her  pass  by  with 
her  light  step  and  graceful  carriage,  wished  that  her 
mourning  were  at  an  end,  so  that  he  might  pay  court 
to  her,  and  invite  her  to  dance. 

Sylvinet  Barbeau  was  the  only  one  who  still  ad- 
hered to  his  former  opinion  of  her.  He  saw  plainly 
enough  that  there  was  something  brewing  in  his  family 
with  regard  to  her,  for  his  father  could  not  resist 
speaking  of  her  now  and  then,  and  whenever  some 
old  lie  about  her  was  proved  to  be  false,  he  congratu- 
lated himself  on  Landry's  account,  saying  that  he 
could  not  bear  to  have  his  son  accused  of  ruining  an 
innocent  young  girl. 

Landry's  approaching  return  began  also  to  be 
talked  about,  and  Father  Barbeau  seemed  to  be 
anxious  that  Father  Caillaud  should  agree  to  it.  At 
last  Sylvinet  saw  that  all  opposition  to  Landry's  love- 
affair  was  about  to  be  withdrawn,  and  he  became  as 
wretched  as  ever.  Public  opinion,  which  varies  with 
the  wind,  had  for  some  time  past  been  in  favor  of 
p 


210  FADETTE 

Fadette ;  nobody  knew  that  she  was  rich,  but  she 
made  friends,  and  for  that  very  reason  Sylvinet  dis- 
liked her  all  the  more,  for  she  seemed  to  him  to  be  a 
rival  in  Landry's  affections. 

Once  in  a  while  Father  Barbeau  let  slip  in  his 
presence  a  word  about  marriage,  saying  that  the 
twins  would  soon  be  old  enough  to  be  thinking  of 
settling  themselves.  Sylvinet  had  never  been  able  to 
think  of  Landry's  getting  married  without  the  great- 
est distress,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  it  would  be  a 
death-blow  to  their  affection  and  companionship.  His 
fever  returned,  and  his  mother  sent  for  the  doctors 
once  more. 

One  day  she  met  Mother  Fanchette,  who,  hearing 
how  anxious  she  was,  asked  her  why  she  sent  so  far 
for  advice  and  spent  so  much  money,  when  she  had 
at  her  very  door  a  more  skilful  doctress  than  any  in 
the  country,  —  one  who  did  not  wish  to  practise  for 
money  as  her  grandmother  had  done,  but  only  for 
the  love  of  God  and  of  her  neighbor.  Then  she 
mentioned  little  Fadette. 

Mother  Barbeau  spoke  of  it  to  her  husband,  who 
made  no  objection.  He  told  her  that  Fadette  had  a 
great  reputation  in  Chateau  Meillant  for  her  skill  in 
healing,  and  that  people  came  from  far  and  near  to 
consult  her  and  her  mistress. 

So  Mother  Barbeau  begged  Fadette  to  come  and 
see  Sylvinet,  who  was  now  ill  in  bed,  and  requested 
her  to  do  what  she  could  for  him. 

Fanchon   had  more   than   once   tried   to  find  an 


FADETTE  211 

opportunity  of  speaking  to  him,  in  accordance  with  her 
promise  to  Landry,  but  he  had  always  avoided  her. 

So  she  did  not  wait  to  be  urged,  but  went  at  once  to 
see  the  poor  twin.  She  found  him  in  a  feverish  sleep, 
and  asked  to  be  left  alone  with  him.  As  it  is  customary 
for  doctresses  to  work  their  cures  in  secret,  there  was 
no  objection  made,  and  nobody  remained  in  the  room. 

The  first  thing  Fadette  did  was  to  lay  her  hand  on 
his,  which  rested  on  the  edge  of  the  bed.  She  did 
it  so  gently,  however,  that  he  was  not  aware  of  it, 
though  his  sleep  was  so  light  that  he  woke  if  a  fly 
buzzed  in  the  room.  Sylvinet's  hand  was  hot  as  fire, 
and  it  became  hotter  still  as  little  Fadette  continued 
to  hold  it  in  hers.  He  seemed  agitated,  but  did  not 
try  to  withdraw  his  hand.  Then  Fadette  placed  her 
other  hand  on  his  forehead,  as  gently  as  before,  and 
he  became  still  more  restless.  But,  little  by  little,  he 
calmed  down,  and  she  could  feel  her  patient's  head 
and  hand  grow  cooler  from  minute  to  minute  ;  he  was 
soon  sleeping  as  quietly  as  a  little  child.  She  re- 
mained beside  him  till  she  saw  that  he  was  about  to 
wake,  and  then  she  slipped  behind  his  curtain,  and 
left  the  room  and  the  house,  saying  to  Mother  Bar- 
beau,  as  she  passed : 

"  Go  and  see  your  son,  and  give  him  something  to 
eat,  for  his  fever  is  gone  ;  and  above  everything,  don't 
talk  to  him  about  me,  if  you  want  me  to  cure  him.  I 
will  come  back  this  evening,  at  the  hour  when  you 
say  his  disease  is  at  its  height,  and  I  will  try  to  break 
this  raging  fever  again.1' 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

MOTHER  BARBEAU  was  much  astonished  to  see 
Sylvinet  free  from  fever,  and  she  hastened  to  give  him 
something  to  eat,  which  he  took  with  some  appetite. 
As  his  fever  had  lasted  six  days  without  a  break,  and 
he  had  not  been  able  to  take  anything,  the  family 
were  enthusiastic  over  Fadette's  skill ;  for,  without 
waking  him  up  or  giving  him  anything  to  drink,  she 
had  already  benefited  him  so  much,  solely  by  the  aid 
of  her  spells,  or  so  it  seemed  to  them. 

Toward  evening,  the  fever  returned,  and  his  tem- 
perature was  very  high.  Sylvinet  was  dozing  and  his 
mind  was  wandering,  and  when  he  woke,  he  was 
afraid  of  those  who  stood  around  his  bed. 

Fadette  came  again,  and,  as  in  the  morning,  re- 
mained alone  with  him  for  nearly  an  hour,  and  the 
only  magic  she  used  was  to  hold  his  hands  and  head 
in  a  soft  clasp,  and  to  breathe  on  his  hot  cheeks  with 
her  cool,  fresh  breath. 

His  fever  and  delirium  vanished  as  in  the  morning, 
and  when  she  left,  still  requesting  that  he  should  not 
be  told  that  she  had  been  there,  they  found  him 
sleeping  quietly, — his  face  no  longer  flushed,  —  and 
apparently  completely  restored  to  health.  I  do  not 
know  where  Fadette  had  picked  up  this  idea.  She  had 

212 


FADETTE  213 

found  out,  partly  by  chance  and  partly  by  experience, 
that  when  her  little  brother  Jeanet  was  at  the  point 
of  death  she  had  been  able  to  relieve  him  a  dozen 
times  or  more,  by  simply  cooling  him  with  her  hands 
and  breath,  and  warming  him  in  the  same  way,  when 
the  burning  fever  was  preceded  by  chills.  She  be- 
lieved that  the  affection  and  good-will  of  a  person  in 
sound  health,  and  the  laying  on  of  a  hand,  full  of 
vitality  and  free  from  any  taint  of  sin,  has  power  to 
banish  disease,  provided  that  the  said  person  is  en- 
dowed with  a  certain  temperament,  and  has  a  firm 
faith  in  God's  goodness.  She  engaged  in  silent 
prayer  while  her  hands  rested  on  the  patient.  This 
treatment  —  which  she  was  now  trying  on  Sylvinet, 
and  which  was  the  same  she  had  given  her  little 
brother  —  she  would  not  have  been  willing  to  admin- 
ister to  any  one  in  whom  she  was  not  greatly  inter- 
ested ;  for  she  believed  that  its  chief  efficacy  lay  in 
the  love  in  her  heart,  which  she  offered  as  a  sacrifice 
to  the  Lord,  and  without  which  He  would  not  have 
granted  her  power  to  relieve  the  patient. 

And  so,  while  Fadette  was  charming  away  Sylvi- 
nefs  fever,  she  repeated  the  same  prayer  which  she 
had  made  beside  her  sick  brother.  "  O  God,  let  my 
health  pass  out  of  my  body  into  this  suffering  body, 
and  as  our  dear  Saviour  offered  up  His  life  to  redeem 
the  souls  of  all  mankind,  if  it  be  Thy  will  to  take  away 
my  life  and  bestow  it  upon  this  sick  person,  I  give  it 
into  Thy  hands.  I  gladly  yield  it  in  exchange  for  the 
recovery  of  him  for  whom  I  am  praying." 


214  FADETTE 

Little  Fadette  had  thought  of  making  this  prayer  at 
her  grandmother's  deathbed,  but  she  did  not  venture ; 
for  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  old  woman's  life  was  dy- 
ing out  in  body  and  soul,  as  the  result  of  old  age,  and 
in  accordance  with  that  natural  law  which  God  Him- 
self has  established.  So  Fadette,  who,  as  you  see, 
trusted  more  to  piety  than  to  witchcraft  in  working 
her  charms,  feared  to  displease  Him,  by  asking  for 
anything  which  He  grants  to  other  Christians  only 
as  a  special  miracle.  Whether  the  remedy  had  any 
special  virtue  of  its  own  or  not,  one  thing  is  certain,  in 
three  days  Sylvinet  had  recovered  from  his  fever,  and 
would  never  have  known  how  his  cure  was  brought 
about,  if,  on  her  last  visit,  he  had  not  happened  to 
wake  a  little  sooner  than  usual,  and  caught  sight  of 
her  bending  over  him,  and  softly  withdrawing  her 
hands.  At  first  he  thought  that  it  was  a  vision,  and 
closed  his  eyes  to  avoid  the  sight  of  her.  But  after- 
wards when  he  asked  his  mother  whether  Fadette  had 
not  held  his  hand  and  felt  his  pulse,  Mother  Barbeau, 
to  whom  her  husband  had  at  last  given  a  hint  of  his 
plans,  and  who  was  anxious  that  Sylvinet  should  over- 
come his  dislike  to  Fanchon,  answered  that  she  had 
been  there  every  morning  and  evening  for  the  last 
three  days,  and,  by  some  secret  process,  had  broken 
his  fever  in  the  most  miraculous  way. 

Sylvinet  did  not  seem  to  believe  what  she  said. 
He  said  that  the  fever  had  left  him  of  its  own  accord, 
and  that  Fadette's  spells  and  incantations  were  all 
silly  nonsense.  He  improved  so  much  in  the  course 


FADETTE  215 

of  the  next  few  days  that  Father  Barbeau  thought 
best  to  speak  to  him  as  to  the  possibility  of  his 
brother's  marriage,  but  without  mentioning  the  name 
of  the  wife  he  had  in  view  for  him. 

"You  need  not  hide  the  name  of  the  bride  you 
intend  to  give  him,"  answered  Sylvinet.  "  I  know 
well  enough  that  it  is  Fadette,  who  has  cast  a  spell 
over  you  all." 

In  fact,  Father  Barbeau's  private  inquiries  into 
Fadette's  character  had  resulted  so  much  to  her 
advantage,  that  he  no  longer  hesitated,  and  was  quite 
eager  to  send  for  Landry  to  come  home.  The  only 
fear  he  now  had  was  the  jealousy  of  his  twin  brother, 
and  he  tried  to  cure  him  of  this  weakness  by  telling 
him  that  his  brother  would  never  be  happy  without 
Fadette.  But  Sylvinet  answered,  "Do  just  as  you 
think  best;  my  brother  must  be  happy,  whatever 
happens ! " 

But  they  did  not  dare  take  any  steps  in  the  matter 
as  yet;  for  Sylvinet's  fever  returned  as  soon  as  he 
seemed  to  have  given  up  his  opposition. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

FATHER  BARBEAU,  however,  was  afraid  that  Fadette 
might  cherish  some  resentment  against  him  for  his 
past  injustice,  and  that  having  become  accustomed  to 
Landry's  absence,  she  might  have  taken  up  with  some 
other  admirer.  When  she  came  to  the  Twinnery  to 
look  after  Sylvinet,  he  had  tried  to  speak  to  her  about 
Landry,  but  she  pretended  not  to  understand  him, 
and  he  was  quite  puzzled  as  to  what  course  to  take. 

At  last,  one  morning,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go 
and  see  Fadette. 

"Fanchon  Fadet,"  said  he,  "I  have  come  to  ask 
you  a  question,  and  I  beg  you  to  answer  me  honestly 
and  truly.  Had  you  any  idea  before  your  grand- 
mother's death  that  she  would  leave  you  so  much 
property?  " 

"  Yes,  Father  Barbeau,"  answered  Fadette,  "  I  had 
some  idea  of  it ;  for  I  had  often  seen  her  counting 
gold  and  silver,  and  I  never  saw  her  spend  anything 
but  copper,  and  also  because  she  often  said  to  me 
when  the  other  girls  made  fun  of  my  rags,  '  Don't 
you  worry  about  that,  little  one,  —  you  will  have  more 
money  than  any  of  them  some  day,  and  you  can  dress 
yourself  in  silk  from  head  to  foot  if  you  choose  to  do 
so." 

216 


FADETTE  217 

"  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  Father  Barbeau,"  said 
Fadette,  "as  I  always  wanted  to  be  loved  for  the 
sake  of  my  fine  eyes,  which  is  the  only  beauty  I  am 
supposed  to  possess,  I  was  not  so  silly  as  to  tell  Lan- 
dry  that  all  my  charms  were  tied  up  in  eel-skin  bags, 
and  yet  I  might  have  ventured  to  let  him  know ;  for 
Landry's  love  is  so  true  and  so  devoted  that  it  would 
have  made  no  difference  to  him  whether  I  was  rich 
or  poor." 

"  And  since  your  grandmother's  death,  dear  Fan- 
chon,"  continued  Father  Barbeau,  "  can  you  give  me 
your  word  of  honor  that  Landry  has  not  heard  of  the 
state  of  the  case,  from  you  or  any  one  else  ?  " 

"  I  can,"  said  Fadette.  "I  swear  to  you  by  my  love 
for  my  Maker,  that  you  are  the  only  person  in  the 
world  beside  myself  who  knows  anything  about  it." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  Landry  is  still  in  love  with 
you,  Fanchon  ?  Have  you  received  any  token  of  his 
fidelity  to  you  since  your  grandmother's  death  ?  " 

"  I  have  received  the  best  of  assurances,"  answered 
she  ;  "  for  I  must  tell  you  that  he  came  to  see  me  three 
days  after  my  grandmother  died,  and  that  he  swore  he 
would  die  of  grief  if  I  did  not  become  his  wife." 

"  And  what  answer  did  you  give  him,  Fadette  ?  " 

"I  am  not  called  upon  to  answer  that  question, 
Father  Barbeau,  but  I  will  do  so,  if  you  wish  it.  I 
told  him  that  there  was  time  enough  for  us  to  think 
of  getting  married,  and  that  I  did  not  like  to  receive 
attention  from  a  man  whose  parents  did  not  approve 
of  me." 


218  FADETTE 

Fadette  said  this  with  an  air  of  so  much  pride  and 
indifference  that  Father  Barbeau  was  quite  disturbed. 

"I  have  no  right  to  question  you,  Fanchon  Fadet," 
said  he  ;  "  and  I  don't  know  whether  you  mean  to  make 
my  son  happy  or  unhappy  for  life,  but  I  do  know  that 
he  is  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  you,  and  if  I 
were  in  your  place,  and  wanted  to  be  loved  for  myself 
alone,  I  should  think,  '  Here's  Landry  Barbeau,  who 
loved  me  when  I  was  in  rags,  when  everybody  de- 
spised me,  and  when  his  own  relations  treated  him 
as  if  he  had  committed  a  sin  in  caring  for  me.  He 
thought  me  beautiful  when  everybody  else  thought 
me  hopelessly  ugly ;  he  loved  me  in  spite  of  all  the 
troubles  which  that  love  brought  upon  him.  He 
loved  me  as  well  when  I  was  away,  as  when  we  were 
together ;  in  fact,  he  loves  me  so  dearly  that  I  cannot 
help  trusting  him,  and  I  will  never  marry  any  one 
else.'" 

"  I've  thought  all  that  long  ago,  Father  Barbeau," 
answered  Fadette,  "but  I  must  tell  you  once  more 
that  I  have  the  greatest  objection  to  coming  into  a 
family  which  would  be  ashamed  of  me,  and  which 
only  give  their  consent  out  of  pity." 

"  If  that's  all  that  stands  in  the  way,  you  may  set 
your  mind  at  rest,  Fanchon,"  said  Father  Barbeau ; 
"  for  Landry's  family  has  a  great  regard  for  you,  and 
will  be  glad  to  welcome  you.  Don't  fancy  that  we 
have  changed  our  opinion  because  you  are  now  rich. 
It  was  not  your  poverty  which  made  us  object,  but 
the  ugly  stories  which  people  told  about  you.  If  they 


FADETTE  219 

had  turned  out  to  be  well  founded,  I  should  never 
have  consented  to  call  you  my  daughter-in-law,  even 
if  it  had  cost  Landry  his  life.  But  I  determined  to 
find  out  the  truth  about  these  reports,  so  I  went  to 
Chateau  Meillant  for  that  very  reason.  I  made  very 
strict  inquiries  over  there  and  in  our  own  neighbor- 
hood, and  I  am  now  convinced  that  they  lied  to  me, 
and  that  you  are  a  good,  honest  girl,  as  Landry  always 
persisted  in  declaring  you  to  be.  So  now,  Fanchon 
Fadet,  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  marry  my  son,  and 
if  you  say  yes,  he  shall  be  here  before  the  week  is 
out." 

This  overture,  which  did  not  surprise  her  in  the 
least,  made  Fadette  feel  very  happy ;  but  she  took 
care  not  to  let  him  see  how  delighted  she  was,  for  she 
wished  that  her  future  husband's  family  should  con- 
tinue to  respect  her.  So  she  hesitated  a  moment. 
Then  Father  Barbeau  said  to  her : 

"  I  see,  my  girl,  that  you  still  have  a  grudge  against 
me  and  my  family.  Don't  expect  too  many  apolo- 
gies from  a  man  of  my  age.  Just  rely  on  my  word 
when  I  tell  you  that  we  will  all  treat  you  with  respect 
and  affection.  Father  Barbeau  has  never  yet  deceived 
anybody,  and  you  may  believe  what  he  tells  you. 
Come  now,  will  you  give  the  kiss  of  peace  to  the 
guardian  whom  you  chose  for  yourself,  or  the  father 
who  wishes  to  adopt  you  ?  " 

Fadette  could  hold  out  no  longer.  She  threw  her 
arms  around  Father  Barbeau's  neck,  and  his  old  heart 
was  rejoiced. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

THE  arrangements  were  soon  made.  The  marriage 
was  to  take  place  as  soon  as  the  period  of  Fadette's 
mourning  was  over.  There  was  nothing  left  to  do 
but  to  send  for  Landry ;  but  when  Mother  Barbeau 
came  to  see  Fanchon  that  evening,  to  give  her  a  kiss 
and  a  blessing,  she  told  her  how  Sylvinet  had  been 
taken  ill  again  as  soon  as  he  heard  about  his  brother's 
approaching  marriage,  and  she  asked  for  a  few  days' 
delay,  so  that  he  might  have  time  to  recover  his  health 
and  spirits. 

"  You  made  a  mistake,  Mother  Barbeau,"  said 
Fadette,  "  in  not  allowing  Sylvinet  to  believe  that  it 
was  a  dream,  when  he  saw  me  at  his  bedside,  at  the 
time  when  his  fever  left  him.  Now  he  will  oppose 
his  will  to  mine,  and  I  shall  no  longer  have  power  to 
relieve  him  in  his  sleep  as  I  have  done.  I  shall  lose 
my  influence  over  him,  and  my  presence  may  even 
make  him  worse." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  answered  Mother  Barbeau  ;  "  for 
just  as  soon  as  he  was  taken  ill,  a  little  while  ago,  he 
went  to  bed  and  said,  '  Where  is  Fadette  ?  I  believe 
she  helped  me  the  last  time.  Won't  she  come  back 
again  ? '  And  I  told  him  that  I  would  go  for  you,  and 


FADETTE  221 

he  seemed  pleased  and  even  eager  to  have  you 
come." 

"  Til  go,"  said  Fadette,  "  but  this  time  I  shall  try  a 
different  treatment ;  for,  as  I  told  you,  the  course  I 
adopted  when  he  was  not  aware  of  my  presence  will 
be  useless  now." 

"And  won't  you  take  any  medicines  with  you?" 
asked  Mother  Barbeau. 

"  No,"  said  Fadette  ;  "  there  is  not  much  the  matter 
with  his  body.  I  must  try  and  work  on  his  mind.  I 
am  going  to  make  an  attempt  to  exert  a  moral  influ- 
ence over  him,  but  I  do  not  promise  you  that  I  shall 
be  successful.  One  thing,  however,  I  can  promise 
you,  and  that  is,  to  wait  patiently  till  Landry  comes 
back,  and  not  to  ask  you  to  send  for  him  till  we  have 
done  all  in  our  power  to  restore  his  brother  to  health. 
Landry  has  so  often  begged  me  to  try  and  help  Syl- 
vinet  that  I  know  he  will  approve,  even  though  his 
return  is  postponed  and  his  happiness  delayed." 

When  Sylvinet  saw  Fadette  standing  beside  his 
bed,  he  seemed  annoyed,  and  did  not  answer  when 
she  asked  him  how  he  felt.  She  tried  to  feel  his 
pulse,  but  he  drew  away  his  hand  and  turned  his 
face  to  the  wall.  Then  Fadette  made  signs  that  she 
wanted  to  be  left  alone  with  him,  and  after  everybody 
had  gone  out  she  extinguished  the  lamp,  and  let  no 
other  light  enter  the  room  except  the  rays  of  the 
moon,  which  was  at  its  full.  Then  she  came  back  to 
the  bedside,  and  said  to  Sylvinet,  in  a  tone  of  author- 
ity which  he  obeyed  like  a  child : 


222  FADETTE 

"  Sylvinet,  put  both  your  hands  in  mine,  and  tell 
me  the  truth ;  for  I  did  not  come  here  for  the  sake  of 
money,  neither  did  I  take  the  trouble  to  come  here  to 
treat  you,  to  have  you  behave  so  rudely  and  ungrate- 
fully to  me.  So  now  listen  to  what  I  ask  you,  and 
take  care  how  you  answer  me  ;  for  you  cannot  possibly 
deceive  me." 

"  Ask  me  whatever  you  please,  Fadette,"  answered 
the  twin,  quite  taken  aback  at  hearing  little  Fadette, 
who  had  always  been  such  a  madcap,  speak  to  him  so 
severely. 

"  Sylvain  Barbeau,"  said  she,  "  I  believe  you  want 
to  die." 

Sylvain  hesitated  a  moment  before  answering,  and 
as  Fadette  kept  a  firm  hold  on  his  hand  and  made 
him  feel  the  power  of  her  will,  he  said  rather  shyly : 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  the  best  thing  that  could  happen 
to  me  if  I  should  die,  when  I  can't  help  seeing  that  I 
am  nothing  but  a  care  and  trouble  to  my  family,  on 
account  of  my  bad  health,  and  my  — 

"Go  on,  Sylvain,  don't  keep  anything  back!" 

"And  my  unhappy  disposition,  which  I  can't 
change,"  answered  the  twin,  quite  overcome. 

"  You  had  better  say  your  bad  heart,"  said  Fadette, 
so  sternly  that  he  felt  almost  as  much  indignation  as 
fear. 


'Sylvain   Barbeau,'  said  she,    'I   believe  you  want  to  die. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

"  WHY  do  you  accuse  me  of  having  a  bad  heart  ?  " 
said  he.  "  You  insult  me  because  you  see  that  I  have 
not  the  strength  to  defend  myself." 

"  I  told  you  the  truth  about  yourself,  and  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  still  more.  I  shall  not  take  any 
pity  on  you  because  you  are  ill ;  for  I  know  enough  to 
see  that  it  is  not  very  serious,  and  if  you  are  in  any 
danger,  it  is  of  losing  your  mind,  for  you  are  doing 
your  very  best  to  make  yourself  crazy.  You  don't 
seem  to  have  any  idea  what  serious  consequences 
your  ill-temper  and  folly  may  produce." 

"  Say  what  you  please  about  my  folly,"  said  Sylvi- 
net;  "but  I  do  not  deserve  to  be  accused  of  ill- 
temper." 

"  Don't  try  to  defend  yourself,"  answered  Fadette ; 
"  I  know  you  better  than  you  know  yourself,  Sylvain, 
and  I  tell  you  that  weakness  leads  to  deceit,  and  that 
has  made  you  selfish  and  ungrateful." 

"  If  you  have  such  a  poor  opinion  of  me,  Fanchon 
Fadet,  it  must  be  because  my  brother  Landry  has 
been  talking  ill  of  me,  and  you  have  found  out  how 
little  he  cares  for  me ;  for  your  only  acquaintance  with 
me  must  be  through  him." 
223 


224  FADETTE 

"  That's  just  what  I  expected  you  to  say,  Sylvain. 
I  know  that  you  could  not  talk  long  without  com- 
plaining of  your  twin  brother,  and  finding  fault  with 
him  ;  for  the  love  you  bear  him  is  so  foolish  and  im- 
moderate that  it  easily  degenerates  into  spitefulness 
and  revenge.  That  shows  me  that  you  are  not  in 
your  right  mind,  and  that  you  are  not  good.  Well, 
I  can  tell  you  that  Landry  loves  you  ten  times  as 
much  as  you  love  him ;  for  he  never  finds  fault  with 
you,  no  matter  how  you  worry  him,  while  you  are  for- 
ever reproaching  him  if  he  doesn't  do  just  what  you 
want  him  to  do.  How  do  you  suppose  that  I  can 
help  seeing  the  difference  between  you  and  him  ?  So 
the  more  Landry  praised  you,  the  worse  opinion  I 
had  of  you  ;  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  you  must  have 
a  very  bad  disposition  to  misunderstand  so  good  a 
brother." 

"  And  so  you  hate  me,  Fadette,  don't  you  ?  I  was 
sure  I  was  not  mistaken,  and  I  knew  you  talked 
against  me  to  my  brother,  till  he  ceased  to  love  me." 

"  That's  just  like  you  again,  Master  Sylvain,  and  I 
am  glad  that  you  lay  the  blame  on  me  at  last.  Well, 
I  must  tell  you  that  vou  are  ill-natured  and  malicious, 
since  you  wilfully  misunderstand  and  insult  a  girl  who 
has  always  tried  to  be  good  to  you,  and  has  taken 
your  part,  though  nobody  knew  better  than  she  did 
that  you  did  everything  in  your  power  to  injure  her. 
A  girl  who  has  many  a  time  given  up  the  only  pleas- 
ure she  had  in  the  world,  —  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
Landry  and  of  being  with  him,  —  so  that  she  might  let 


FADETTE  225 

Landry  go  to  you,  and  give  you  the  happiness  which 
she  denied  herself.  And  yet  I  was  under  no  obliga- 
tion to  you.  You  have  always  been  an  enemy  of 
mine,  and  as  far  back  as  I  can  remember  I  never  saw 
a  child  so  cruel  and  unfeeling  to  anybody  as  you  have 
always  been  to  me.  I  might  have  wished  to  take  my 
revenge,  and  there  were  plenty  of  opportunities.  If  I 
have  not  availed  myself  of  them,  and  if,  without  your 
knowledge,  I  have  returned  good  for  evil,  it  is  because 
I  believe  it  to  be  my  duty  to  forgive  my  neighbor 
if  I  wish  to  please  God.  But  you  probably  do  not 
understand  me  when  I  speak  to  you  of  God,  for  you 
are  an  enemy  to  Him  and  your  own  salvation." 

"  I  have  allowed  you  to  say  a  good  many  things  to 
me,  Fadette,  but  you  are  going  too  far  when  you 
accuse  me  of  being  a  heathen." 

"  Didn't  you  tell  me  that  you  wanted  to  die  ?  Do 
you  call  that  the  desire  of  a  Christian  ?  " 

"I  didn't  say  that,  Fadette,  —  I  said  — "  and 
Sylvinet  stopped,  startled  at  the  recollection  of  his 
own  words,  which,  now  that  Fadette  had  drawn  his 
attention  to  them,  really  seemed  impious. 

But  she  would  not  let  him  alone,  and  kept  on 
remonstrating  with  him. 

"It  may  be,"  said  she,  "  that  you  did  not  mean  all  you 
said ;  for  I  am  sure  that  you  are  not  so  anxious  to  die 
as  you  wish  your  family  to  suppose,  so  that  they  may 
all  do  just  as  you  wish  them  to  do,  and  that  you  may 
torment  your  mother,  who  is  distressed  to  death,  and 
your  twin  brother,  who  is  innocent  enough  to  believe 
Q 


226  FADETTE 

that  you  would  really  like  to  put  an  end  to  yourself. 
But  you  can't  deceive  me,  Sylvain.  I  believe  that 
you  are  as  much  afraid  to  die  as  the  rest  of  us,  and 
even  more  so,  and  that  you  enjoy  playing  upon  the 
fears  of  those  who  love  you.  You  like  to  see  them 
yield  to  you  even  against  their  better  judgment,  when 
you  threaten  to  give  up  the  ghost,  and  it  must  be 
very  convenient  and  agreeable  to  have  everybody 
give  in  to  you  at  a  word.  That  is  the  way  you  man- 
age to  rule  your  whole  family.  But  as  you  use  means 
of  which  God  disapproves,  and  which  are  contrary  to 
the  natural  order  of  things,  He  punishes  you  by  mak- 
ing you  even  more  wretched  than  you  would  be  if  you 
obeyed  instead  of  commanding.  And  so  you  are 
weary  of  a  life  which  has  been  made  only  too  easy  for 
you.  Now  let  me  tell  you,  Sylvain,  what  would  have 
made  a  good,  sensible  boy  of  you.  You  should  have 
had  very  severe  parents,  poverty,  and  scanty  food,  and 
plenty  of  whippings.  If  you  had  been  brought  up  in 
the  same  school  as  myself  and  my  brother  Jeanet, 
you  would  be  thankful  for  anything,  instead  of  being 
as  ungrateful  as  you  are.  Now,  Sylvain,  do  not  lay  it 
all  to  your  being  a  twin!  I  know  that  they  have 
talked  a  great  deal  too  much  before  you  about  that 
affection  existing  between  twins,  which  is  a  law  of 
nature,  and  which  might  perhaps  cause  your  death  if 
it  were  set  at  naught,  and  you  thought  that  you  were 
only  carrying  out  your  destiny  when  you  bore  this 
love  to  excess.  But  God  is  not  so  unjust  as  to 
single  us  out  before  our  birth  for  an  unhappy  fate. 


FADETTE  227 

He  is  not  so  cruel  as  to  implant  in  us  impulses  which 
we  cannot  overcome,  and  you  do  Him  wrong  —  super- 
stitious creature  that  you  are  —  by  believing  that  the 
blood  in  your  body  has  an  irresistible  power  for  evil, 
which  your  moral  sense  is  incapable  of  combating. 
You  can  never  make  me  believe  that  you  could  not 
have  conquered  your  jealous  disposition  if  you  tried 
to  do  so,  unless,  indeed,  your  mind  is  unsettled. 
You  do  not  make  an  effort  to  overcome  it,  because 
they  pet  you  for  this  moral  failing,  and  you  are  more 
guided  by  your  whims  than  you  are  by  your  sense  of 
duty." 

Sylvinet  did  not  reply,  and  allowed  Fadette  to  con- 
tinue to  reprove  him  unsparingly.  He  knew  well 
enough  that  she  was  right  in  the  main,  and  that  in 
one  respect  only  was  she  too  severe.  She  professed 
to  think  that  he  had  never  made  any  effort  to  resist 
this  evil  propensity  of  his,  and  that  his  selfishness 
was  premeditated,  whereas  he  had  acted  selfishly 
without  knowing  or  intending  it.  This  mortified  and 
distressed  him  very  much,  and  he  would  gladly  have 
exonerated  himself.  She  was  quite  aware  that  she 
had  been  exaggerating,  and  she  had  done  it  purposely, 
so  that  he  might  be  brought  to  a  properly  chastened 
frame  of  mind,  before  she  should  proceed  to  comfort 
him  and  heal  his  wound.  So  she  forced  herself  to 
speak  sternly  to  him,  and  to  appear  indignant,  while 
her  heart  was  so  full  of  pity  and  tenderness  that  she 
was  disgusted  with  the  part  she  was  playing,  and  was 
more  exhausted  than  he  was. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

To  tell  the  truth,  Sylvinet  was  not  half  so  ill  as  he 
seemed  or  as  he  wished  them  to  believe,  and  chose 
to  consider  himself.  When  Fadette  felt  his  pulse, 
she  saw  at  once  that  he  had  but  little  fever,  and  that, 
though  he  might  be  rather  flighty,  it  was  because  his 
mind  was  not  so  strong  as  his  body.  So  she  thought 
that  the  best  way  of  managing  him  was  to  make  him 
afraid  of  her,  and  early  the  next  morning  she  came 
to  see  him  again.  He  had  slept  but  little,  but  he  was 
quiet  and  appeared  to  be  exhausted.  As  soon  as  he 
saw  her,  he  held  out  his  hand,  instead  of  snatching 
it  away  as  he  had  done  the  night  before. 

"Why  do  you  offer  me  your  hand,  Sylvain?"  in- 
quired she.  "  Do  you  want  me  to  see  whether  you 
have  any  fever?  I  see  by  your  face  that  it  is  all 
gone." 

Sylvinet,  ashamed  at  being  obliged  to  draw  back 
the  hand  which  she  did  not  seem  inclined  to  take, 
said : 

"  I  want  to  shake  hands  with  you,  Fadette,  and  to 
thank  you  for  all  the  trouble  you  have  taken  on  my 
account." 

"  If  that's  the  case,  I  will  shake  hands  with  you," 
said  she,  taking  his  hand  and  holding  it  in  hers ; 
228 


FADETTE  229 

"for  I  never  refuse  an  act  of  courtesy,  and  I  don't 
believe  you  are  so  deceitful  as  to  pretend  to  be  friendly 
to  me  if  you  did  not  feel  so." 

Although,  this  time,  Sylvinet  was  wide  awake,  he 
was  very  glad  indeed  to  allow  his  hand  to  rest  in 
Fadette's,  and  he  said  to  her  very  gently  : 

"And  yet  you  treated  me  very  badly  yesterday 
evening,  Fanchon,  and  I  don't  see  how  it  is  that  I  am 
not  angry  with  you.  Indeed  I  feel  much  obliged  to 
you  for  coming  to  see  me  after  all  the  trouble  I  have 
given  you." 

Fadette  sat  down  beside  his  bed,  and  talked  to  him, 
but  in  a  very  different  strain  from  her  reproof  of  the 
night  before.  She  was  so  kind,  so  gentle,  and  so 
affectionate,  that  Sylvinet  was  greatly  relieved,  and 
his  pleasure  was  all  the  greater  because  he  had  be- 
lieved that  she  was  very  angry  with  him.  He  wept 
freely,  confessed  his  faults,  and  even  begged  her  par- 
don and  asked  for  her  friendship  with  such  a  good 
grace  that  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  his  heart  was 
better  than  his  head.  She  let  him  unbosom  himself, 
still  scolding  him  a  little,  now  and  then,  and  when 
she  tried  to  take  away  her  hand,  he  held  it  fast,  be- 
cause it  seemed  to  him  that  this  hand  had  power  to 
cure  him  of  both  mental  and  bodily  ailments.  When 
she  saw  that  he  was  in  the  right  mood,  she  said : 

"  Now  I  am  going,  Sylvain,  and  you  must  get  up ; 
for  your  fever  is  gone,  and  you  mustn't  lie  here, 
letting  your  mother  wait  on  you,  and  waste  her  time 
sitting  by  your  bedside.  You  must  eat  what  your 


230  FADETTE 

mother  is  preparing  for  you  under  my  directions.  It 
is  meat,  and  I  know  that  you  say  you  have  a  horror 
of  it,  and  that  you  insist  on  eating  nothing  but  vege- 
table messes,  but,  no  matter,  —  you  must  force  your- 
self to  eat  it,  and  even  if  you  do  not  like  it  you  must 
not  let  her  suspect  it.  Your  mother  will  be  gratified 
to  see  you  eating  substantial  food,  and  your  dislike 
will  decrease  each  time  you  make  an  effort  to  overcome 
it,  and  finally  it  will  altogether  disappear.  You'll  see 
if  I  am  not  telling  you  the  truth.  So  now,  good-bye, 
and  don't  let  them  come  after  me  so  early  again  ;  for  I 
know  you  will  not  be  ill  any  more  unless  you  choose 
to  be." 

"You  will  come  again  this  evening,  won't  you?" 
asked  Sylvinet. 

"  I  don't  practise  medicine  for  pay,  Sylvain,  and  I 
have  something  better  to  do  than  to  take  care  of  you 
when  you  are  not  ill." 

"  You  are  right,  Fadette,  but  you  think  that  I  only 
want  to  see  you  out  of  selfishness.  It  isn't  that  at 
all.  I  take  great  comfort  in  talking  to  you." 

"Very  well,  you  are  not  helpless,  and  you  know 
where  I  live.  You  know  that  I  am  going  to  be  your 
sister  by  marriage,  as  I  am  already  in  affection,  so 
there  will  be  no  harm  in  your  coming  to  see  me." 

"  I  shall  come,  since  you  are  willing  that  I  should 
do  so,"  said  Sylvinet. 

"  So  now,  au  revotr,  Fadette.  I  am  going  to  get 
up,  though  I  have  a  bad  headache  from  lying  awake 
all  night  and  grieving." 


FADETTE  231 

"  I  will  try  to  cure  your  headache,"  said  she ;  "but 
take  care  that  it  is  the  last,  and  remember,  I  order 
you  to  sleep  soundly  to-night." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  forehead,  and  in  about 
five  minutes  his  head  no  longer  ached,  and  he  felt 
relieved  and  comfortable. 

"  I  see  that  I  did  wrong  not  to  allow  you  to  help 
me,  Fadette,"  said  he  ;  "  for  you  are  a  great  doctress, 
and  you  can  charm  away  sickness.  All  the  others 
have  done  me  harm  by  their  drugs,  and  you  have 
cured  me  just  by  laying  your  hands  on  me.  I  believe 
if  I  could  have  you  always  near  me,  I  should  not  be 
ill  again,  and  would  never  be  so  foolish  and  wicked 
as  I  have  been.  But  tell  me!  You  are  not  angry 
with  me  any  more,  are  you?  Will  you  rely  on  the 
promise  I  made  you  to  do  just  as  you  tell  me  ? " 

"  I  shall  rely  on  it,  and  if  you  don't  change  your 
mind,  I  shall  be  as  fond  of  you  as  if  you  were  my  twin 
brother." 

"  If  you  really  meant  what  you  say,  Fanchon,  you 
would  treat  me  like  a  brother ;  for  twins  do  not  speak 
to  each  other  so  formally." 

"Well  then,  Sylvain,  get  up,  eat  your  breakfast, 
talk,  sleep,  take  a  walk,"  said  she,  rising.  "  Those  are 
my  orders  for  to-day.  To-morrow  you  may  go  to  work." 

"  And  I  shall  go  to  see  you." 

"  Very  well,"  said  she,  and  she  left  the  room,  giving 
him  a  look  of  pardon  and  affection,  which  at  once  in- 
spired him  with  a  desire  to  leave  his  bed  of  suffering 
and  self-indulgence. 


CHAPTER  XL 

MOTHER  BARBEAU  could  not  get  over  her  amaze- 
ment at  the  skill  which  Fadette  had  shown,  and  that 
evening  she  said  to  her  husband  : 

"  Here  is  Sylvinet,  feeling  better  than  he  has  felt 
for  the  last  six  months.  He  has  eaten  everything  I 
have  given  him  to-day  without  any  of  his  usual  grim- 
aces over  it,  and,  what  is  still  more  remarkable,  he 
speaks  of  Fadette  as  if  she  were  the  good  Lord  Him- 
self. He  can't  say  enough  in  her  praise,  and  he  is 
longing  for  his  brother's  return  and  marriage.  It 
seems  like  an  absolute  miracle,  and  I  don't  know 
whether  I  am  asleep  or  awake." 

"  Miracle  or  no  miracle,"  said  Father  Barbeau,  "  the 
girl  is  very  clever,  and  I  think  any  family  which  gets 
her  is  lucky." 

Three  days  afterward,  Sylvinet  started  off  for  Arton 
to  bring  his  brother  home.  He  had  begged  his  father 
and  Fadette  to  allow  him,  as  a  great  favor,  to  be  the 
first  to  tell  Landry  of  his  good  fortune. 

"All  my  happiness  comes  at  once,"  said  Landry, 
almost  ready  to  die  of  joy,  in  Sylvinet's  arms;  "for 
you   have  come  to   bring   me  home,  and   seem   as 
delighted  as  I  am  myself." 
232 


FADETTE  233 

They  came  back  together,  and  did  not  linger  on 
the  way,  as  you  may  well  imagine,  and  there  never 
was  a  happier  set  of  people  than  the  family  at  the 
Twinnery,  when  they  sat  down  to  supper,  with  Fa- 
dette  and  Jeanet  in  their  midst.  Everything  went  on 
smoothly  for  the  next  six  months.  Little  Nanette 
became  engaged  to  young  Caillaud,  who  was  Lan- 
dry's  best  friend,  outside  his  own  family.  It  was  de- 
cided that  the  two  weddings  should  take  place  on  the 
same  day  and  at  the  same  hour.  Sylvinet  had  grown 
so  fond  of  Fadette  that  he  did  nothing  without  con- 
sulting her,  and  she  had  as  much  influence  over  him 
as  if  she  were  really  his  sister.  He  was  in  excellent 
health,  and  there  was  no  longer  any  talk  of  jealousy. 
If  he  still  occasionally  looked  sad,  and  was  too  much 
inclined  to  indulge  in  reverie,  Fadette  reproved  him, 
and  he  at  once  began  to  smile  and  talk. 

The  two  marriages  took  place  on  the  same  day  and 
at  the  same  Mass,  and  as  both  families  were  well-to- 
do,  the  wedding  feast  was  so  bountiful  that  Father 
Caillaud,  who  was  always  as  sober  and  dignified  as 
possible,  made  believe  to  be  a  little  drunk  the  third 
day.  There  was  nothing  to  dampen  the  enjoyment 
of  Landry  and  the  whole  family,  and,  indeed,  one 
might  say,  the  whole  neighborhood,  for  the  Barbeaus 
and  Caillauds  were  rich,  and  Fadette  had  as  much  as 
both  families  together ;  so  they  extended  their  hos- 
pitality to  everybody  and  gave  away  a  good  deal 
in  charity.  Fanchon  was  so  kind-hearted  that  she 
wanted  to  return  good  for  evil  toward  all  those  who 


234  FADETTE 

had  misjudged  her.  Indeed,  later  on,  when  Landry 
had  bought  a  fine  farm,  which  he  and  his  wife  man- 
aged admirably,  she  built  a  comfortable  house  on 
their  own  land,  where  all  the  poor  children  of  the 
district  came  for  four  hours  every  week  day,  and  she 
and  her  brother  Jeanet  took  the  trouble  to  teach 
them,  to  give  them  religious  instruction,  and  even  to 
relieve  the  necessities  of  those  among  them  who  were 
in  want. 

She  remembered  that  she  had  herself  been  an  un- 
fortunate, neglected  child,  and  her  own  beautiful  boys 
and  girls  were  early  taught  to  be  kind  and  sympa- 
thetic toward  those  who  had  nobody  to  pet  them  and 
care  for  them. 

But  what  was  Sylvinet  doing  while  all  these  rejoic- 
ings were  going  on  in  his  family?  Something  had 
happened  which  nobody  could  understand  and  which 
puzzled  Father  Barbeau  very  much.  About  a  month 
after  the  weddings  of  his  brother  and  sister,  when 
his  father  urged  him  to  look  around  for  a  wife,  he 
answered  that  he  did  not  want  to  marry,  but  that  he 
had  an  idea  in  his  head  which  he  wanted  to  carry  out, 
—  this  was  to  go  and  enlist  for  a  soldier.  As  there 
are  more  girls  than  boys  in  the  families  of  our  country 
people,  and  all  the  hands  are  needed  for  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  land,  it  is  very  seldom  that  a  man  volun- 
teers. So  this  determination  of  Sylvinefs  caused  a 
good  deal  of  surprise,  and  he  assigned  no  reason  for 
it,  except  that  he  had  a  fancy  for  a  military  life,  which 
nobody  had  ever  suspected.  He  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 


FADETTE  235 

the  remonstrances  of  his  father  and  mother,  his  sis- 
ters and  brothers,  not  even  excepting  Landry,  and 
they  were  obliged  to  appeal  to  Fanchon,  who  had 
better  judgment  than  any  member  of  the  family,  and 
whose  advice  was  valuable.  She  and  Sylvinet  had  a 
conversation  of  more  than  two  hours,  and  when  they 
parted,  it  was  noticed  that  he  and  his  sister-in-law 
had  both  been  shedding  tears ;  but  they  seemed  so 
calm  and  determined  that  there  was  no  more  objec- 
tions raised  when  Sylvinet  said  that  his  mind  was 
made  up,  and  Fanchon  added  that  she  approved  his 
resolution,  and  thought  it  would  turn  out  to  be  the 
best  thing  for  him  in  the  end.  As  it  seemed  prob- 
able that  she  knew  more  about  the  matter  than  she 
chose  to  tell,  no  one  ventured  to  offer  any  opposition, 
and  even  Mother  Barbeau  gave  in,  though  she  shed 
a  good  many  tears  over  it.  Landry  was  in  despair, 
but  his  wife  said  : 

"It  is  God's  will  and  our  duty  to  let  Sylvain  go. 
Believe  me,  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about,  and  ask 
no  more  questions." 

Landry  accompanied  his  brother  as  far  as  he  could 
on  his  journey.  He  had  insisted  on  carrying  Syl- 
vain's  bundle  on  his  shoulder,  and  when  he  handed  it 
to  him,  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  tearing  the  heart  out 
of  his  body.  He  went  home  to  his  dear  wife,  who 
nursed  him  tenderly ;  for  he  was  really  ill  with  grief 
for  a  whole  month. 

Sylvain  did  not  fall  ill,  but  pursued  his  way  to 
the  frontier ;  for  it  was  in  the  times  of  the  great  and 


236  FADETTE 

glorious  wars  of  Napoleon.  Though  he  had  never 
had  the  least  liking  for  the  army,  he  kept  his  inclina- 
tions under  such  control  that  he  soon  gained  the  rep- 
utation of  being  a  good  soldier,  brave  in  action,  like 
a  man  who  attaches  no  value  to  his  life,  and  yet  as 
amenable  to  discipline  as  a  child,  and  living  with  all 
the  austerity  and  rigorous  simplicity  of  the  ancients. 
As  he  had  a  very  fair  education,  he  soon  won  his  pro- 
motion, and  after  ten  years  of  gallant  service  and 
many  hardships,  he  got  to  be  a  captain,  and  was  also 
decorated  with  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor. 

"  Oh,  if  he  would  only  come  home  after  all  these 
years,"  said  Mother  Barbeau  to  her  husband,  the 
evening  of  the  day  on  which  they  had  received  a 
delightful  letter  from  him,  filled  with  kind  messages 
for  everybody,  —  for  Landry,  for  Fanchon,  and  in- 
deed for  the  whole  family,  old  and  young.  "Here 
he  is,  almost  a  general,  and  it  is  time  he  had  a  rest." 

"  He  has  rank  enough  without  exaggerating  it," 
said  Father  Barbeau,  "and  it  is  a  great  honor  for  a 
peasant's  family." 

"  Fadette  predicted  it,"  said  Mother  Barbeau,  — 
"  yes,  indeed,  she  told  us  long  ago  how  it  would  turn 
out." 

"  All  the  same,"  said  the  father,  "  I  shall  never 
understand  how  it  was  that  his  tastes  turned  so  sud- 
denly in  that  direction,  and  how  his  disposition 
changed  so  completely,  —  he  who  was  so  quiet  and 
so  fond  of  his  ease." 

"  Old  man,  our  daughter-in-law  knows  a  good  deal 


FADETTE  237 

more  about  that  than  she  will  tell,  but  it  is  not  easy 
to  deceive  so  fond  a  mother  as  I  am,  and  I  think  1 
know  as  much  about  it  as  our  Fadette." 
"  I  think  that  it  is  about  time  you  told  me." 
"Well,"  said  Mother  Barbeau, '"our  Fanchon  is 
too  powerful  an  enchantress,  and  she  exerted  more 
influence  over  Sylvinet  than  she  intended.  When 
she  saw  how  the  charm  was  working,  she  would 
gladly  have  dispelled  it,  or  done  something  to  dimin- 
ish its  force,  but  she  could  not,  and  our  Sylvinet,  see- 
ing that  he  was  becoming  too  fond  of  his  brother's 
wife,  went  away  from  a  sense  of  honor,  in  which  he 
was  sustained  and  encouraged  by  Fanchon." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,"  said  Father  Barbeau,  scratch- 
ing his  ear,  "  I  fear  that  he  will  never  marry ;  for  the 
nurse  of  Clavieres  said  long  ago  that  his  infatuation 
for  his  brother  would  cease  should  he  ever  fall  in 
love,  but  that  his  heart  was  too  tender  and  passionate 
ever  to  love  more  than  once."' 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


SRLJF 
2  WEEK 


JUL1 


REC'D  LD-URL 

OCT  01  1990 

JUN  0  7  1990 


fit  o^f o1 


JUN 


31988 


AUG301991 

EMS  UBRARY 

RECEIVED 
SEP  03 1991 

EMS  LIBRARY 


Form  L9-Series  444 


FACILITY 


A     000  034  384     8 


